


Chasing Moonlight: A tale of a Lost Prince

by LiaoftheDawn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Falling In Love, Fantasy, Inspired by Tangled (2010), M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Tangled!AU, more politicking than should probably be allowed in a Disney!AU, somehow there's still figure skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-10-14 05:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 65,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10529547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiaoftheDawn/pseuds/LiaoftheDawn
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a boy in a tower, with Moonlight hair and eyes like Stars, and he dreamed of seeing the floating lights. Once upon a time, there was a boy from a distant village, with wings on his feet and a heart of glass, and he dreamed of dancing with a Prince.----Victor's 27th birthday is approaching and all he wants for a present is a chance to see the lights up close. And maybe the handsome young man who somehow stumbled into his tower can help him with that.





	1. Once upon a time

**Author's Note:**

> This was loosely inspired by [kyyhky's beautiful Tangled!AU](http://kyyhky.tumblr.com/post/156288698660/thank-you-everyone-for-making-this-yoi-x-tangled) as well as lamenart's, both are stunningly gorgeous, go check it out. The title is of course a derivative of A Tales of Sleeping Prince because how could I not  
> ETA: For some reason, it seems lamenart has either deleted their tumblr or changed URLs. If anyone knows where I can find them so I can link to their incredible Tangled AU art, I'll appreciate it

Once upon a time in a faraway land, there was a kingdom whose people worshipped the goddess of the moon. Every cycle, on the night when she shown brightest, they would offer her beautiful crowns made of blue roses. To show her love and gratitude, the Moon sent her kiss to the kingdom, and its magic made it so their beautiful blue roses never withered. And one of them, the most beautiful of them all turned its petals to the silver color of the Moon. It was said to have the power to heal every sickness, protect from misfortune and bring happiness to the kingdom.

Many years passed and the King and Queen were expecting the birth of their first child when the beautiful Queen fell ill. Desperate to save her life, the King had the Moon's silver rose used to make a potion. The magical rose restored the Queen's health, and on that same night, when the full moon was high the sky, she gave birth to a handsome prince with eyes like stars and hair of moonlight. He shined so splendid that the Moon herself hid her face from the sky the moment he was born, so as to not outshine the Prince's beauty.

The Prince grew to become beautiful and kind, beloved by the Moon and the people. From a young age, he learned to dance on the frozen lake by the palace and every year, on the night of the Prince's birthday, the Moon would hide her face and the people would come to watch him dance, and his Moonlight hair would shine blessings on everyone present.

But as time went by, the King's Great Chancellor grew jealous of the Prince's Moonlight hair and wanted to have its blessings all for himself. It was the Prince's eighth birthday and the Moon had hidden her face, and the wretched warlock used the boisterous party as a distraction to take the benevolent King and the beautiful Queen's lives and steal the Prince away, shrouding the kingdom in complete darkness.

The kingdom was devastated by the loss of their beloved rulers and their beautiful Prince, but no matter how much they searched, they could never find him. Desolate and confused, the people begged the King's brother to become Regent until their Lost Prince came back, which he accepted out of love, knowing his departed brother would have wanted him to keep the kingdom at peace.

Ever since then, the Regent valiantly guards over the kingdom, whose people have not lost hope for their Lost Prince to come back. And every year, on the Lost Prince's birthday, when the Moon hides her face and the night turns darkest, the people light up lanterns of silver fire to simulate the Lost Prince's Moonlight hair, wishing he will see them and find his way back home.

_The End_

 

 

"Ah, I really never get tired of this story." Yuko sighs, shutting the book closed and placing it on her lap, a dreamy flush on her cheeks. "What's wrong, Yuuri-kun? You look troubled."

Yuuri perks up, only now noticing he's frowning. He blinks a couple of times and looks down at his hands, pensively.

"I don't know…" he admits, glancing briefly at the book on Yuko's lap. The story of the Lost Prince and his Moonlight hair has always been his favorite, for as long as he can remember. Every night, he asks his mother to tell it before he goes to sleep, and in his dreams he envisions himself finding the Prince, dancing with him on the frozen lake, hearing his chrystalline voice calling his name ' _Yuuri, my little star'_ , mesmerized by his smile that shines as beautiful as his hair, "Just… something's off about… this." He vaguely gestures at the book, a little helpless "It's… different to how Mom tells it." He says finally, not knowing how else to explain it.

Yuko frowns and puts the book back on its shelf "You're weird Yuuri-kun."

The door bursts open and Takeshi comes stumbling through it. "Come on! The other kids have already started making their lamps! We can't lose to them, we gotta make ours bigger!"

Yuko giggles and nods. "Let's go, Yuuri-kun, we came all the way to the capital for this!"

Yuuri doesn't reply and lets her drag him outside with Vicchan yipping at his feet. He holds the white rice papers they'll use to make the lamps close to his chest. His eyes then find Vicchan and he smiles, struck by an idea that makes him run to his mother to ask her for a black chalk to draw.

Hours later, when the sky has turned darkest, he'll unclasp his small hand from his mother's and let go of his floating lamp of silver fire, closing his eyes in a silent prayer.

_Please let him see you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I succumbed to my own impatience once again. I really wanted to share this with you and welp, here we are. I'm trying to normalize my writing schedule so it won't take me 3 months to update each of my on-going stories, but I hope you'll have patience with me. It's the first time I try to do an AU of this scale so I'm slowly working through some kinks and issues to make it all fall into place. I've got a general outline down and most importantly I'm super excited to share it with you. As you've probably noticed already, this has deviated quite a bit from the Tangled story, but I hope you'll appreciate the changes and enjoy it as a whole.
> 
> This chapter's pretty short because it's mostly a prologue, but I still hope to hear your thoughts about it. I'm not entirely sold on the title (but it was a better choice than Rapunvitya lol), so I might change it eventually, but let me know your opinions on it please :) I also hope the fairytale at the beginning does have that classic fairytale feel to it, I'm not sure if I achieved it.
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and want to know more about it/send me some love, you can hmu @ [my tumblr](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com). Comments are always the most encouraging kind of support! ~~if you're wondering why you're seeing this copy-pasted everywhere it's because I had to edit shit out due to a good samaritan report hahahaha~~


	2. There was a Prince in a tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For as long as he can remember, Victor has been in this tower. And every year, on his birthday, there's a stream of lights that float on the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter will give you some hints about what is it that Yuuri thought was wrong in the storybook Yuko was reading ;)

Victor wakes up shortly before dawn. The sky is painted in faint pink and dark purples. It's a beautiful sight, and one of the few things Victor doesn't tire of. Still, a part of him wishes he could have slept longer, made this day shorter. But it would've been impossible to stay in bed any more when he'd gone to sleep long before the moon reached the top of the sky, driven to slumber by boredom rather than exhaustion.

Reluctantly, he gets up from the bed and starts his morning routine, which inevitably entails brushing his long, long, long hair. Although he tried to lay it neatly beside his pillow so it wouldn't get too tangled over the night, come morning he finds it full of fuzz from the bedsheets and twisted into messy knots and loops. He sighs in defeat. The day's barely started and he's already hating it, like he hates the part of himself that can't just let his hair look anything less than perfect, even if it takes half a day to untangle the long strands and free them of dust and twigs.

By the time he's done with his hair, the sun is already high in the sky, its light shining on the wall where he painted the line of the seasons when he was younger. Days and weeks and moon cycles have blurred into each other so much, Victor's hardly looked at it in who knows how long, but something (fate, perhaps) has him glance at it today of all days. And when he does, he sees the faint light marking the first day of winter on the wall. He brightens up immediately, excitement blooming on his skin. The first day of winter means…

"Makkachin! It's only five days to my birthday!" He squeals leaping to hug his best friend. "Do you think Yakov will let us go see the lights this year?"

For as long as he can remember a strange phenomenon has occurred on his birthday. At night the moon will turn black and the sky will be so dark, it will be hard to even see his own nose. But then, as the night turns darkest, a stream of silver lights will emerge from the earth and fly up to the sky, making it sparkle beautifully. They're too far away to dissipate the darkness inside Victor's tower, but somewhere deep inside, in his heart, he knows the lights are for him alone. And he wishes for nothing but to be able to see them up close, learn what they are, spend his birthday surrounded by light and beauty, instead of wallowing in darkness and solitude.

The silver lights aren't just a dreamlike representation of his hopes and desires of freedom and excitement. They've blessed him before, in the most unexpected of ways. Many years ago he'd been watching the lights flow like a countercurrent waterfall for hours, littering the pitch black sky with their warm glow. Only a few remained visible, most of them already having floated away higher than the clouds. And then a strong wind blew and the lights shook and wavered, some of them extinguishing and disappearing in the darkness, others falling to the ground and just a few riding the wind, changing course, floating away where Victor couldn't see them anymore. He was starting to feel disappointed seeing the spectacle end so abruptly when, like a miracle, or a birthday gift from the night herself, a piece of crumpled white paper, soft and light, slightly charred on the edges, blew into his tower. Victor remembers examining it with curiosity, not sure what to make from it, except knowing that it was somehow related to the silver lights that had just disappeared. He knew it like he knew the lights were his and he clutched it close to his chest, like a treasure, his heart bursting with joy and excitement.

The next morning, when Yakov woke up (Yakov used to spend so much more time with him when he was a child, even slept in the tower most nights) and asked Victor what he wanted for a birthday present, he showed him the crumpled piece of paper. "This! I want to see one of this, please Yakov! I'll never ask for anything ever again!" he pleaded. At that time he still hadn't noticed the pattern, didn't know the lights only appeared once every year, all he had was dreams and hopes and childlike wonder.

Yakov scrunched his brow and inspected the paper briefly. He didn't look too pleased but nodded, folding the paper and hiding it in his robes. Victor's heart soared.

That night, Yakov came back smiling. "I've brought your birthday present." And Victor almost jumped through the roof. But instead of one of those mysterious lights, Yakov was carrying something fluffy and _breathing_ and squirming.

Victor frowned. "This isn't what I asked for."

Yakov frowned back, and pulled out the charred white paper –never letting go of the squirming creature-, unfolded it and pointed at one of its corners. There was a drawing on it, a weird scrawl of something that looked like an animal with big black eyes and a happy smile. Victor gasped. He hadn't seen that when he first found the paper. He chewed on his lip, angry at himself for being careless and disappointed after realizing he'd wasted his once opportunity to make his wish come true.

"I wanted to see the lights!" he bawled, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Those are stars, Vitya, you can see them every night."

"But I wanted—"

The animal yipped, its small bright eyes looking up at him expectantly, just like the drawing. Intrigued, Victor poked its black nose with his finger, forgetting, just for a moment, how upset he was. It was wet and cold and squishy. The animal yipped again and it licked Victor's hand, startling him.

"If you don't want it, I can put it back where I got it from."

"No!" Victor blurted, grabbing at the animal, "I—" he doesn't know what to say, feeling frustrated and angry, but also fascinated by this living thing, the first he's seen that's not a bird or a bug. "What is it?"

Yakov smiled one of the gentlest smiles Victor had ever seen on him. "It's a dog, you've seen pictures on your books right? I guess this one does look quite different. It's a poodle." He explained, letting Victor hold it. It was heavy, and barely of the right size to fit in Victor's lanky arms.

"Poodle…" he repeated, holding the dog close to his face, and it licked his cheek enthusiastically. He giggled.

"If you take good care of it, it'll be your best friend. And it'll keep you company when I'm not here." He continued, kneeling down to Victor's eye-level and patting his head lightly. "You can give it a name too, if you want."

Victor pulled the dog away from his face when its tongue started getting dangerously close to his eye. "A name..." it squirmed in his hands, as if wanting to jump at him and drown him in wet kisses. "Ah, I know just the one! Makkachin!"

It's been 15 years and, like Yakov promised, Makkachin became his best friend, and a companion for his loneliest days. It's like the lights sent him as a present, a compensation for always being so far away. But he doesn't forget the charred and crumpled piece of paper, still keeps it hidden under his pillow. Making sure his treasure is clean and safe is the next step in his routine, and one he enjoys much more than the endless hours of brushing his hair. He likes looking at it every once in a while, tracing the drawing of the poodle with his finger (the strokes are squiggly and rough, but happy and energetic and they fill his chest with warmth). Even if he hadn't gotten to see the lights, it was thanks to them and this piece of paper that Makkachin had come into his life, and he can't even imagine how boring and lonely he would've been without his friend all these years.

After placing the paper safely in its place, he starts getting hungry so he picks up an apple, then a knife, and carves it to vaguely resemble Makkachin's face. It's… not quite artistic, but if he squints and doesn't look too closely it almost looks like the real thing. Kind of. On second thought, it's better if it doesn't because he would never be able to eat Makkachin.

He spends a good amount of time playing with Makkachin afterwards. It's one of the scarce daily activities that never get boring. He runs around the tower, climbing up to the top floor where the kitchen is, then back down to the main room with Makkachin chasing after him, until his limited stamina runs out and he allows the dog to pounce him to the ground. They wrestle on the floor until Victor manages to flop Makkachin to his back to scratch his belly furiously, breathless with laughter. Makkachin wags his tail and pants happily and if Victor makes the mistake of leaning in too close, he'll get a wet kiss slathered all over his face.

When Makkachin gets tired of being on his back, he squirms away and comes back carrying a toy made of cloth and stuffed with dry leaves Yakov helped him make many years ago. It was supposed to be shaped like a dog, but after being Makkachin's favorite plaything for over a decade, it's all torn and amorphous. Makkachin doesn't seem to mind, and he chases after it when Victor throws it with as much enthusiasm as he did the first day they played with it.

The sun's barely past its highest point on the sky by the time Makkachin plops down to the floor in exhaustion, clearly done with playing for today. Victor sighs and makes his way over to his bookshelf, where he picks up the newest book Yakov has brought him. It's about politics and government, and Victor's not really sure of why Yakov would bring him something so boring. He misses the old days in which he'd get picture books with drawings of plants and animals, or storybooks with princes and dragons and magic swords and how Yakov would read them to him before going to sleep. Or the time when Yakov brought him a love story that had inflamed the first passions in his heart and kept him awake at night, wondering if he'd ever get to know what a true love's kiss felt like. But ever since his eighteenth birthday, the flow of fantasy and love stories was significantly reduced in favor of history books, economics, politics, harvest cycles, geography, foreign languages, even etiquette. All boring.

He flips through the pages, uninterested, and puts the book back on the shelf, choosing instead to reread his favorite love story about a dancer who was so beloved by everyone, yet so lonely in his crystal palace until a beautiful young man appears in one of the dancer's balls and sweeps the dancer off his feet and steals his heart, only to disappear at the strike of midnight. The dancer then travels to a distant kingdom to find the young man, and when he does, they dance again until the end of time. Victor loves thinking that one day someone will appear in his tower and steal his heart, and they'll dance under the silver lights and live happily ever after.

"Vitya!"

Victor is pulled out of his daydream by Yakov's hollering voice. Really, for how old he is, his vocal projection is quite impressive.

He rushes to the window and sees Yakov at the bottom of the tower, carrying a basket of food and standing over a wooden platform. Victor groans knowing what's coming now. He pulls on his long, long hair and tosses it over a hook that's hanging just outside his window so it cascades all the way down to the valley. Yakov catches the tips and ties them to a handle on the platform. All Victor has to do know is pull. Although the hook acts like a pulley and makes it easier to pull Yakov all the way up here, it's exhausting on his arms and it leaves his hair messy. And he just spent three hours making it perfect.

Yakov steps through the window and huffs, obviously tired, and Victor thinks it would be much better for everyone involved if they devised a better system for Yakov to climb up. He doesn't get to say it because he takes a closer look at the basket on Yakov's arms and finds what looks like a storybook tucked in between fruits and sweets.

"I see you've been busy." Yakov says dryly, looking at all the furniture that's been turned over from Makkachin's running all around the place.

"I was bored. These new books you brought me are dreadful, why do I even need to know any of this?" he complains, quickly snatching the new book from the basket, delighted to find it is indeed a story book with pictures of dragons and unicorns. "Now this is more like it."

"You're not a child anymore, Vitya, there are many things you need to know. You'll thank me one day."

Victor wouldn't say he's not grateful to Yakov. Even though he's never been allowed outside of the tower, Yakov's always provided him with everything he could wish. He brought him a lot of books and helped him read them when he was younger. He'd also been very preoccupied with teaching him all sorts of things. Everything that's on the books Victor mostly refuses to read, Yakov has patiently instructed him in. He's learnt foreign languages good enough to read the books of their most lauded poets. And he's learnt to dance and sing and play music, to cook and bake and paint and sew. Sometimes, he even feels Yakov looks sad when he tells him, for the millionth time, how he's not allowed to go outside, but Victor has never asked. Usually, when they argue about that, Victor gets too upset to think about anyone else's feelings.

"On the subject of me not being a child anymore…" he teases, a grin pulling at the corners of his lips, "In case you have forgotten, a very important date is approaching!"

Makkachin reacts to that with a woof, padding to sit by Victor's side, as if to play his back-up.

"That's true, the winter solstice is upon us, which means it's a time to be careful not to run our food supply dry before spring. I'm pleased to see you have studied the harvesting cycle."

Victor huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. "That's not it! My birthday! My birthday's coming!" he whines in annoyance. Makkachin woofs again in support.

"Vitya, that's still five days away."

"But I already know what I want for my present."

Yakov's demeanor changes immediately, his brows furrow. "You know the answer already, it's a no."

"But Yakov-"

"No, Vitya, and you know the reason. It's dangerous out there."

"But I just wanna see the lights! I swear, I _swear_ I'll never ask for anything again, and I'll come back right away, I just want to see them, please. Please, Yakov!"

"I already told you, those lights you're talking about are the stars and you can see them just fine from here."

Yakov huffs, a sign that he's losing his patience. But Victor's losing his patience too.

"Don't lie to me! I know they're not stars. You said it yourself, I'm not a child anymore!"

Victor knows the stars. He's had almost twenty years to watch them, follow them, learn their shapes, patterns and positions, the paths they draw on the night sky. Yakov has brought him astronomy books and helped him differentiate stars from planets, and told him stories about them. He also knows of another kind of star; one star, somewhere in his distant past, or a distant dream, someone small and soft, precious and beautiful, with eyes warm like the sun, an embodiment of music itself, with a cheery voice that called him " _Be my prince, Victor!_ ". He doesn't know if that person is real or if they're just part of a dream he can hardly make out, but Victor feels, deep in his heart, that if he were a prince like the ones in his storybooks, he'd be theirs in an instant, no questions asked and they'd truly dance together till the end of times.

But just like he's not a prince, the lights of his birthday aren't stars and he's sick of Yakov treating him like a little kid and pretending he's going to believe those lies.

"I'm taller and stronger than you now, whatever's dangerous out there, if you can handle it then so can I!" he bellowed, anger mounting in his chest.

"You don't know a thing about the world out there!"

"Because you've never let me see it!"

Yakov looks saddened for a moment, but Victor is too angry to be concerned about it.

"Vitya, I don't want to talk about this anymore, I'm too old for this." He sighs,looking defeated. "I just hope one day you'll understand that all I've done has been for your sake." He mutters quietly, and winces when he sits down, touching his lower back with one hand.

Victor chews on his lip, already regretting lashing out at a man that, for all intents and purposes, has been a father to him all these years, has taken care of him and ensured his well-being, protecting him from a world that would hurt and use him. He looks down at the wooden floor, ashamed of his own ungratefulness.

"Can you help me brush my hair? It's all tangled from carrying you up here." He offers softly, holding his worn out brush so Yakov can take it before kneeling on the floor by his feet. Makkachin comes to rest his head on Victor's lap, and he pets the dog softly, feeling the light pulls at his head that indicate the brush is making it through the knots on his hair.

"I should get you a new one, this one is in shambles." Yakov muses quietly. "And it was brand new just a few months ago."

"Well, I have to use it a lot." Victor tries to sound playful, but he forgets about it when he hears Yakov wince in pain again. He sighs and closes his eyes and sings.

_I hear a voice crying in the distance_

_Perhaps you too, have been abandoned?_

He's known this song for as long as he can remember. It feels like something that belongs outside of this tower, but that's absurd because he's never been outside of this tower. Still, it gives him a warm and nostalgic feeling, and the hope that one day, he'll sing it out there, when he's dancing under the lights with the little star that calls to him in his dreams. For now, though, it's enough knowing that this song makes his hair glow like moonlight and erase away all pain and hurt.

"Vitya, you didn't have to do that." Yakov chastises, and when Victor looks back at him, he notices his hair looks a little darker, the wrinkles in his face softer.

"Hmmm, but if I don't, next I know you won't be able to climb up here, and then who's gonna get me a new brush?" he chirps lightly as he gets back on his feet. "Come on, Makkachin, Yakov's gonna make us a delicious lunch now and then we can play some more."

* * *

Yakov leaves with the sunset, and Victor's left alone with Makkachin and the darkness. Lately, Yakov's been spending less and less time with him, citing important matters and 'I'll tell you when it's time". Victor is not child anymore (he's had this thought many times today, probably because his birthday is approaching) and doesn't need Yakov there to play with him or read him a story, but he could do with a little less solitude.

The moon starts to rise on the sky, full and bright, and its light shines through the creaks on the rookf and the wide window that is Victor's only source of contact with the world outside.

"Oh! I know, Makkachin! We haven't gone downstairs today!"

Makkachin woofs in approval of his idea and together they spring down the stairs. Victor's skin prickles with excitement as the temperature starts to drop.

At the bottom of the stairs lies his favorite place in the entire world: a frozen pond that encases almost the entirety of the room. Just like he imagined, the light of the moon shines through the window and gives the ice a magical shine. Victor can feel his blood thrumming with anticipation already.

This frozen pond was also a gift from Yakov. In fact, it was the first gift Yakov gave him; at least, the first he can remember. It was the winter solstice, almost twenty years ago, and the first snow had painted the world outside his window in beautiful, pure white. Victor woke up with the chill of the morning and stretched his arms outside to feel the snow fall on his skin. It was cold, but not unpleasant. There was something about the winter wonderland outside that felt familiar and comfortable. For the first time, the tower felt like home.

"Yakov! Yakov, look, it's so pretty! What is it?!" he'd chirped excitedly, waking Yakov from where he slept, holding as much of the soft white fuzz as he could fit in his small hands.

"It's called snow, Vitya." Yakov had said, sounding like he was still half-asleep.

"I want to dance on it." Victor said without thinking, and once the words were out, they felt _right_ , like something that hailed from that nostalgic place that made this snow thing feel like home.

Yakov approached the window and looked out at the pristine white landscape. "You can't dance on the snow, you'll catch a cold."

"I won't!" Victor declared, determined. "I promise I won't. Please please please please Yakov, let me dance on the snow! I'll never ever ask for anything again."

Victor remembers Yakov's expression from that day very clearly. It was the first time he saw him wear that thoughtful, but sad expression. Like he was doubting his own decisions. He couldn't identify it back then, but now, Victor knows that face shows nostalgia and regret. He still doesn't understand why.

With one gloved hand, Yakov brushed off the snow that had accumulated on the windowsill, then looked down at Victor and placed his dry hand softly over his head. "Alright. I'll see what I can do."

A few days later, Victor woke up to find Yakov wasn't sleeping anymore. He'd rushed to the window and found even more snow piled outside, the mantle of white was so bright it almost hurt his eyes, but he didn't want to stop looking at it.

He was startled out of his daydream by Yakov's voice, yelling in the distance "Vitya! Come down here!"

Victor followed the voice down the stairs, to a room that had so far been empty except from boxes that Yakov had never allowed him to touch. What he found instead was the frozen pond covering the floor, and Yakov standing at the edge of it with a determined look in his face. Victor was sure he'd never seen such a large surface of ice and yet…

"Yakov! Yakov I want to dance, I want to dance!" he cheered, almost throwing himself at the ice. Yakov stopped him by the elbow before he could set a foot on it.

"I'll let you dance, Vitya and I will even teach you how to do it, but you have to show me that you can do it with these." Victor noticed the pair of boots Yakov held in his free hand, the most curious he'd ever seen: they were black and would probably go above his ankle, but what was strangest was the metallic edges attached to the bottom.

"What are they?" he asked, reaching for the mysterious boots. There was something about them, like the snow and the ice, that drew him in, almost like he'd been enchanted.

"They're called dancing blades. If you can't stand on the ice wearing them, I'll melt this down and you won't be allowed to even touch it again, alright?"

Victor hardly heard the words. "I'll do it." He said, already kicking his shoes off and kneeling to put on the new boots, barely even thinking about it, as if his body already knew how to do it. They fit him to perfection too. He waddled a little on the thin edges of the blades and for a moment, feared he wouldn't be able to do it. That he'd fall and Yakov would take it all away before he had the chance to figure out why all of it seemed to pull such a deep chord in his heart.

 

 

Then he stepped on the ice.

 

 

Then he was flying.

 

 

He jumped, and he was light as air; he spun, and he flowed like water, he laughed and it lit a fire in his chest. He belonged here, on the ice, on these dancing blades, felt like he was born wearing them, like he'd spent more time on the ice than on solid ground.

"Yakov! Yakov!" He called, breathless, euphoric tears streaming down his cheeks. "Look at me, Yakov, I did it! I'm dancing!"

It was probably due to the poor lighting, but for a moment, he could've sworn Yakov's eyes looked a little like water.

It's one of his fondest memories, and this place is, of all the gifts Yakov has given him, the one he loves most (well, second to Makkachin, of course). Even now, he feels the same thrills whenever he steps down to this cold room, the goosebumps on his skin, his fingers tremble with excitement as he laces down his dancing blades. Makkachin stands by the edge of the ice, whining because he can't follow Victor there (he tried, once, but was so freaked out by the cold on his paws he almost leapt through the roof).

For twenty years, Victor has felt there are two things missing, two things everyone ought to have. Life and Love. Life he lacks, for he's not allowed out of his tower and has never seen the world beyond the treetops and mountains outside the window. And love he lacks simply because he's never met any other person. And he does love Yakov and Makkachin, but it's not the kind of love that makes his heart feel so hollow in its absence. But on the ice, it's easy for Victor to forget himself, his pains, all the things he lacks, his dashed hopes, the thought that this year, yet again, he'll be stuck looking at his beloved lights from afar. When he's dancing on his blades, all that matters is the sounds he makes as he carves the ice, the gush of the wind in his ears. He hums that melody from his distant past and it transports him back home, outside of this tower, wherever that is. The frozen surface reflects the night sky and it's almost like he's skating on the stars themselves. And as he lets the melody echo on the stone walls, his thoughts drift to that small and precious star, and he closes his eyes and tries to go back to that time, that nebulous dream and those warm eyes.

Makkachin woofs and it breaks the spell. Victor opens his eyes and finds the room notoriously darker than it was before. Specifically, it's like something has suddenly appeared in front of the moon, blocking its light.

Something with a suspiciously human-yet-not-Yakov-shaped shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A useless fact I came upon whilst doing research for this (what, did you expect me not to do research for a Fantasy and Disney-inspired fic? Think again my dudes) was that there's vestiges of ice skates made of bone dated as far back as prehistoric times, and that there's a 12th century book that references "children have attached bones to their ankles, and carry well-worn sticks. They fly across the ice like birds, or well-fired arrows". I'm sorry I'm a History major, I can't help myself. But ice skates have been made with metallic blades since medieval times, so it doesn't seem like a stretch that Disney Rapunvitya would have those kind of skates too.
> 
> This chapter turned out notoriously longer than expected (what else is new), so I'm happy I was able to get it done now. I won't deny I was a little disappointed by the lack of reaction for chapter one, to the point I briefly considered taking the story down. I honestly want to know if y'all are interested in this, I don't want to saturate this fandom with a story nobody wants to read, no matter how excited I am about it.
> 
> If you're wondering "but how does Rapunvitya skate with 10 km of hair" the answer is the magic of Disney :D. I'm mostly very happy with all the backstory I've come up with for this fic, and I really enjoyed writing these snippets of smol Rapunvitya with Makkachin and skating, I hope y'all enjoy it too.
> 
> Please let me know your feelings about this story, I'd appreciate all kinds of feedback since it's my first time doing such an in-depth AU.
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and want to know more about it/send me some love, you can hmu @ [my tumblr](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com). Comments are always the most encouraging kind of support! ~~if you're wondering why you're seeing this copy-pasted everywhere it's because I had to edit shit out due to a good samaritan report hahahaha~~


	3. And a dancer with a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri -a dime-a-dozen winter dancer- was already expecting a catastrophe when his friend convinced him to perform for an audience. Somehow everything turned out even worse than anticipated.

"Yuuri! We're gonna be late! Late!"

Yuuri groans, refusing to open his eyes. "I'm not going, Phichit."

His friend obviously doesn't care about what he wants or not.

"Come on, Yuuri, we've practiced so much for this! The audience will be really upset if you don't show!"

Yuuri buries his face in his makeshift pillow and groans again, as if that's going to somehow vanquish Phichit and his too-early-too-loud voice.

"And besides, what if your Lost Prince happens to be among them! He'll be so impressed by your graceful performance that he'll—ouch! Mean, Yuuri, that's mean!" Phichit whines, throwing the weaponized shoe back at Yuuri's head. Yuuri doesn't care.

There are two things that Yuuri has loved above all else since he was a child.

The first one was the Lost Prince. It was his favorite story, and he'd always have his mother read it to him before he went to sleep. Even now that he's an adult and has long stopped living with his parents, he'll recite the story out loud on sleepless nights (Phichit overheard him once and earned himself a lifetime's worth of teasing material). And on every town he passes, he'll visit the street artists and use every penny he owns to buy beautiful paintings of the prince to bring back home. None of them live up to the beauty of the vision that lives in his dreams and imaginations, but they're better than nothing.

"You don't have to be so negative about it, you're the best winter dancer in the land, everyone knows it."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm really not. Not even close."

The second thing he loves is winter dancing. Even if he's never been all that talented at it (no matter how much Phichit exaggerates about it), he loves the freedom he feels on the ice, his blades so sharp it's almost like flying but with music playing in his head. He only started doing it because the stories said the Lost Prince could entrance the whole realm with his dance, and a part of him still has those childish dreams of finding the Prince and dancing on the frozen lake with him, impressing him with his skills. It was said that everyone who saw the Prince dancing on the frozen lake would receive countless blessings, but Yuuri always thought getting to dance with the Prince would itself be the most wonderful blessing.

But he is well aware that his dream is indulgent and impossible, something that gave him solace in his childhood and to which he still clings for comfort from time to time, but nothing more. He has no real expectation of ever seeing that dream realized, and not just because of how unlikely it is that the Lost Prince would just somehow happen to watch their performance. Hearing Phichit talk about it makes him feel even less motivated to go out there, because there was no way a mediocre winter dancer like himself could ever impress the Prince whose dance enchanted the entire kingdom.

Phichit sighs and kneels by the bed, holding both of Yuuri's hands in his. "Yuuri, I know you're still hurt about Vicchan…"

Yuuri flinches and bites his lip. Vicchan was his childhood pet, a small brown poodle his parents got him for his eighth birthday. He was small and soft and loved to chase Yuuri around, sleep with him and lick his face to wake him up in the mornings and when Yuuri felt insecure or anxious, Vicchan would cuddle with him and make him feel warm and safe. Yuuri had loathed to leave him behind at his parents' inn five years ago, when he and Phichit formed their makeshift winter dancing troupe and started traveling, but he couldn't submit his beloved pup to the chaotic life of a traveling performer.

But Vicchan had passed away a month ago, and Yuuri hadn't been there with him. Old age, _it was inevitable_ , his sister's letter said, _he lived a happy and healthy life, he was so loved Yuuri and he loved you so much_ , his mother wrote, _he was so lucky to have you, don't be sad, think of all the good times you had together_ , but none of it was as comforting as they seemed to think, nothing that really quelled the ache in his heart, the guilt of abandoning his beloved friend, of not being there for him at the end.

"And if you truly, honestly tell me you don't want to do this, then we won't, but dancing has always made you feel better, right? And Vicchan loved to see you dance so much, remember how he'd slip on the ice because he wanted to join you?"

Small tears pool at the corners of Yuuri's eyes, remembering how Vicchan shivered when his little paws touched the ice, how he'd run circles around Yuuri's feet until he slipped and Yuuri leaned down to scoop him into his arms and how he'd yip excitedly as Yuuri glided on the ice and spun them around laughing, or that time his father gave him a small wooden sledge so Vicchan could ride it and Yuuri would pull him along around the frozen lake beside their house. He squeezes his eyes, trying to will the tears away and looks down at Phichit's pleading face, how he softly rubs the back of his hands. He knows his friend is right and means well, but a part of him stubbornly wants to curl up in bed and never have to get up again.

There's a soft tap on the door and Chris's head pops inside the room.

"Are we ready yet? I need to start working on Yuuri's hair or we won't make it on time."

Yuuri's gaze shifts from Phichit, to Chris, who seems to understand the situation and smiles at him sympathetically, to his blades lying against the wall inside a pouch that his mother had embroidered with Vicchan's face.

He takes a deep breath and nods once, hoping he won't regret it later.

 

* * *

 

Oh, he regrets it.

 

The crowd's much bigger than Yuuri had expected and a lot of them seem to be looking at him intently. Probably wondering why a mediocre dancer like him is involved with people as talented as Chris and Phichit. The lake they've chosen is smaller than ideal, but the ice is hard and unusually smooth, and the weather is pleasant, only a minimum of snow crunching beneath their feet and making the scenery brighter. Chris pops out a canteen of suspicious smelling liquor and pushes it against Yuuri's lips.

"Liquid courage." He says simply, and Yuuri drinks without thinking –the taste is awful and it burns his throat, but it sets his blood on fire which is probably the point-, then tucks the canteen in his breast pocket, just in case he needs more before he takes the ice.

Phichit dances first and does a great job of getting the crowd excited. He's from a faraway kingdom and his dancing has an exotic quality that people adore. Yuuri himself loves Phichit's dance, it's joyful and lively and always brings a smile to his face. His red and gold costume is a stark contrast with the whiteness of the snow around them that makes it impossible to look away from him and the crowd is cheering and clapping by the time he finishes.

Chris goes next, and his style is drastically different from Phichit's. He exudes a mature sensuality that Yuuri thinks is probably unmatched among all the dancers he's met. Chris has an intimate relationship with his own body and that gives him the ability to seduce the defenseless spectators, who swoon and sigh and squeal. When he's done, they throw roses at him, screaming, their faces red with excitement.

Yuuri's not quite sure why he's the closing act, when either of his two friends would be way better fitted to put an end to it and leave the crowd satisfied and hopefully more eager to part with a coin or two. He's tense and nervous, and without his glasses, he can't even make up the audience's faces. Which is probably for the best, considering how likely it is that they're looking at him with disdain, maybe mocking him, maybe laughing, maybe wondering why is their time being wasted with someone so lame. The thought only makes him freeze up, his legs heavy. And it goes as expected, as he spirals down into panic while trying his best to keep himself standing he ends up falling once, twice, he spins and feels dizzy, he arches his back and loses his balance and crashes on the ice again, harder. His head is throbbing and people start screaming and Phichit is pulling him off the ice "Yuuri, it's the royal guard, we have to go!" he squeaks, eyes wide with terror.

Yuuri's vision focuses on a young man with golden hair and emerald eyes, all clad in pearl-white armor with the crest of the royal family on his chest, a sword on his hip.

"By order of the King Regent, all winter dancers are hereby under arrest. Surrender at once and His Highness could show you mercy. Resisting will only worsen your punishment."

Yuuri's mind turns to flight mode instinctively; he barely kicks off his blades and picks them up before he's running as fast as his legs will let him. The guard with the golden hair yells, but strangely, doesn't seem to be following him. But then again, it's hard to tell when his vision's so blurry, where did he leave his glasses? Phichit has them, he remembers, but he can't find Phichit, or Chris, or anyone really.

 

He stops running and looks around to find himself completely surrounded by trees and snow, not a single soul to be found.

"Chris! Phichit!" he calls, then runs again in case any guard is nearby. His hips are sore from the fall and his clothes are sticking to his body with sweat and every heavy breath freezes his lungs.

It's snowing now, he has no idea of where he is, no idea of where he came from –and even if he retraced his steps, he'd probably end up in the clutches of the royal guard and in jail- and has lost all track of his friends. What if they were caught, he wonders, panicking, dread creeping up his spine as he runs in random directions, calling their names. "Chris! Phichit!" He doesn't even have his glasses, just his incriminating dancing blades and these clothes that are too thin to really protect him from the weather.

Desperate, he treads through the forest, trying to find a way out, some sign of recognizable ground, but it's hard with the snow covering everything and getting thicker by the minute. The cold is starting to reach his bones and as the sky turns from blue to pink to red he starts to think he might actually die like this, either frozen by the snow and the winter chill or devoured by wild animals. An unexpectedly brutal end to an otherwise unremarkable life. As the sky turns completely dark and thick clouds cover the stars, he starts to lose all hopes of finding his way back. Suddenly, he remembers the liquor he got from Chris earlier and drinks it all down in one gulp. It tastes even worse than he remembers and his stomach immediately protests the burn, but if he's going to die like this, might as well make himself pass out so he doesn't feel any pain.

 

 

His head spins and his body feels incredibly hot and heavy as he stumbles through the blur that are his surroundings humming. Happily. He feels happy now, strangely. There's snow and more snow and trees and rocks and more snow and then a wall made of stone, and on top of it, there's a bright, bright light and he wonders why is the Moon hidden inside this stone wall. He chases the moon up, up, his hands hurt and his feet hurt but he's boiling up inside, excited that he'll get the moon, The Moon! He's always loved the Moon, always wanted to touch it.

 

 

The clouds clear as he reaches the top and there's another moon on the sky, but it's also inside the stones and it's strange but Yuuri wants to see it and when he reaches the Moon there's ice under his feet and he slips and falls and giggles. And when he looks up, the Moon is looking down at him and their eyes are stars and they talk and their voice is like music but Yuuri doesn't know what they're saying.

 

 

"You're so beautiful." Yuuri says, or thinks he says, and he holds the Moon's hand "Dance with me!" and he stumbles on the ice, pulling the Moon along, and there's music and laughter. "I'm Yuuri!" he chirps, remembering his mother's voice admonishing at the back of his head 'your manners, Yuuri.' And how rude it is to start dancing with the Moon without even introducing himself.

 

 

"I'm Victor!" The Moon says and they smile and squeeze Yuuri's hand.

 

 

Victor, Victor was Vicchan's name (why did he name Vicchan Victor?) Yuuri's always liked that name –Victor- such a beautiful name. Like the Moon. "So beautiful." And the Moon transforms in his arms as they dance and spin and suddenly he's dancing with the Lost Prince –so he's dreaming, because he always dreams of dancing with the Lost Prince, this can be nothing but a dream- but he's warmer and prettier and brighter than ever. Maybe the Lost Prince was always the Moon and that's why he disappeared. "Victor." Yuuri breathes the name, sings it, dances it. It's the best dream he's ever had, the happiest he's ever felt and Victor, the Moon, his prince, he's so beautiful and his laughter is the sweetest melody and just as he's about to ask for the Prince's hand –it's what he's always wanted isn't it? What he's always dreamed of, to dance with the Prince and love him and marry him and dance with him and make him smile- he's shoved hard and his head bursts in pain and the world around him fades to black.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist: the only thing Yuuri stole in this AU is Vitya's heart ;3
> 
> So this chapter turned out shorter than I expected because I had a last minute change of heart on how I wanted the whole drunkenness to happen and it's a little structurally weird, maybe, but I wanted to give off that chaotic feeling, both during the escape scene and Yuuri's drunk shenanigans. It was interesting to write and quite fun, once I started I couldn't stop lol. And I had a meeting with a friend and arrived horribly late because of this. And I was also very pumped to write after everything that went down on Yuri on Stage. I'm still death and deceased about it thx.
> 
> I'm sorry for not keeping Vicchan alive here. In canon, Vicchan's death is such an important part of Yuuri's emotional state –his anxious self-destruction at the GPF- when Victor irrupts into his life that I felt it would change him too much ): I'm sorry, Vicchan, I cried a little writing about it if that's any compensation.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this bizarre chapter, I'm really hyped about hearing your opinions. We haven't seen the last from Phichit and Chris, and a very important character appeared here too, I wonder if you've guessed who they are ;)
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and want to know more about it/send me some love, you can hmu @ [my tumblr](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com). Comments are always the most encouraging kind of support! ~~if you're wondering why you're seeing this copy-pasted everywhere it's because I had to edit shit out due to a good samaritan report hahahaha~~


	4. Their paths crossed under the Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor can't wait to tell Yakov about the beautiful stranger he met last night and the magical dance they shared.

Victor looks up at the window and sees a figure standing there, the moonlight behind them, darkening their features. His first instinct is to recoil and try to find something to protect himself –Yakov has told him many times that the world out there is dangerous and full of selfish, evil people who would try to take advantage of him and use his magic for their benefit. But he barely has enough time to react to that instinctual fear or process what's going on because Makkachin woofs and the figure yelps, trips inside the room, slips on the ice falling on their butt and starts giggling.

 

Well, that didn't look very threatening.

 

"Are you alright?" Victor asks without thinking, gliding towards the giggling figure and leaning down to offer a hand and help them up. When he reaches down and finds himself face to face with the stranger, the moonlight illuminates their features, and Victor gasps.

 

 

_Oh._

 

 

_Wow._

 

 

He can feel warmth rush to his face.

This person is…

 

"Beautiful…"

 

 

His own voice sounds so affected he barely realizes he's just spoken, but Victor can hardly think of it, too focused in the stranger's smooth skin and soft cheeks, their bright grin and sparkling warm eyes and the clear tinkling of their laughter that immediately fills the whole room.

The stranger finally seems to notice Victor's even there, and their expression brightens even more, if that was even possible, their brown eyes wide with wonder, like they're seeing the most amazing sight in the whole wide world.

 

"You're so beautiful." They drawl, their voice is fuzzy, and they grab Victor's hand to stand back up still giggling. They stumble a little, holding on to Victor's hand like a lifeline, trying not to slip again. "Dance with me!" they chirp, as if not even aware of how precarious the balance on their feet is.

 

Victor's heart does a funny thing in his chest, like it jumps. Maybe this is what all those romance stories mean when they say your heart skips a beat. And the stranger pulls him, clumsily spinning and twisting on the ice, laughing vibrantly, and every move they makes is music, like the melody of the wind and chiming bells, and a song Victor's never heard and yet plays in his mind like he's known it since the day he was born.

 

The stranger almost slips again, but Victor manages to catch them, drawing one arm around their waist, pulling them closer to keep them stable on their feet, anything to continue dancing. The stranger doesn't even seem to notice their own fumbling, as they giggle and try to nudge Victor into another spin "I'm Yuuri!" they say, and Victor's eyes widen.

 

"Yuuri." he repeats, and there's something sweet and nostalgic about that name, something precious, but he can't really pinpoint what it is. But does it matter, when Yuuri's vibrating in his arms, when he's smiling at Victor like he's the one that makes the Moon shine, when his eyes are so warm Victor almost forgets he's standing on ice, when he squirms and wiggles until Victor finds himself being led around by Yuuri's clumsy dancing and laughing and laughing until he's completely breathless, yet wants nothing less than to catch some air if that means they'll have to stop dancing.

 

"I'm Victor!" he beams, his blood thrumming with delight as Yuuri's arm sneaks around him to dip him down so low he'd probably feel the coldness of the ice on the back of his neck, except he doesn't because Yuuri's so, so warm and he's so bright and so gentle he reminds Victor of the sun.

 

He reaches out to graze Yuuri's cheek with his hand and Yuuri leans into the touch, making Victor's heart skip another beat. "Victor…" Yuuri breathes, and Victor's never loved his own name as much as he does when he hears it spoken in Yuuri's voice. "So beautiful…" and the pure awe in Yuuri's eyes makes Victor's chest ache.

 

 _This is it_ , he thinks, lost in the depth of Yuuri's gaze, the feeling he's been craving for, what he's always dreamed of. A beautiful stranger coming to find him, having his heart completely taken by the warmth of his touch, dancing together under the moonlight to a happily ever after, just like the fairytales he's always admired. And he thinks, with the way Yuuri's looking at him, with the way he's inching closer and closer, that maybe Yuuri's also feeling the same.

 

 

Suddenly Yuuri's gone, Victor's been dropped and he squeaks when his butt hits the cold ice. He looks around, briefly terrified that Yuuri's been nothing but a dream, but he quickly finds Yuuri lying flat on his back, unmoving, with a large furry body on top of his.

"Makkachin!" he whines, scrambling back to where Yuuri is, nudging Makkachin off his beautiful stranger. "I'm so sorry, Yuuri, he gets excited very easily and…" he cuts himself off when he realizes Yuuri's not moving and his eyes are closed. He panics again, this time fearing the worst, but that too quickly dissipates when he notices Yuuri mumbling in a language he doesn't understand, occasionally slurring out words like "Beautiful" and "Victor" and "my Prince" interlaced with hiccups and giggles. Victor studies Yuuri's cheerful expression, wondering what it is that he's dreaming about. Does he think Victor is a prince? Will he be disappointed when he realizes he's not? The thought makes his chest clench.

Yuuri shivers, and as much as he regrets the abrupt end to their dance, Victor can't leave him freezing on the ice, so he uses all of his strength to pick him up in his arms, struggles to step off his dancing blades and wobbles upstairs, his hair occasionally catching on corners (what's all the magic in the world worth for if it's going to make Victor trip and drop his Yuuri, Victor doesn't know), to gently lay Yuuri on his soft bed. Yuuri still giggles occasionally, but his breathing has turned slow and even. He looks cute like this, the smile on his lips impossibly sweet.

Victor kneels by the bed and crosses his arms over the mattress, so he can rest his head on them and sighs. He almost wishes he could stay up watching Yuuri's sleeping face, but perhaps the excitement of tonight has exhausted him, because his eyes feel heavy and his head is in such a comfortable position he lets himself succumb to sleep.

 

For the first time in many years, Victor is excited to wake up tomorrow, to see what kind of surprises Yuuri will show him.

 

* * *

 

The doors to the throne room are pulled open slowly. The soldier takes a deep breath to calm himself and looks up at the King Regent who sits on a purple velvet cushion, a stern look on his face, his hand resting on the gold-plated armrest. The throne itself is new, and much more luxurious than the old one. The soldier has been coming and going from the castle for many years now, but this new throne has more precious gems than he's seen in all his life.

"Captain Yuri Plisetsky." one of the guards at the door announces, and Yuri stops examining the huge gems on the King's new throne to strut into the room and kneel, gaze fixed on the crimson carpet, bracing himself for what's coming.

"It seems you let those criminals escape again, Captain." The Regent speaks, his voice calm, but cold.

Yuri tightens his fist. "We lost sight of the winter dancers when they ran into the woods." He explains through gritted teeth.

"This is the third time you fail to capture any of these outlaws. Are the responsibilities of command too much for you to handle, perhaps?"

Yuri bites back a snarl. "No, sir, I apologize. It won't happen again."

The Regent hums, pensively. "Indeed, it won't." he says, and Yuri already knows he won't like what he's about to hear. "You are to leave immediately to search for these fugitives." He makes a sign to one of the servants who walks up to Yuri and hands him a stack of papers. It only takes a quick glance to understand. "I have put prices on them, so it shouldn't be too hard. You are very beloved by our people, Captain, I'm sure they'll be glad to help. And as proof of my faith in your abilities, you won't be allowed back in the city until you have them under arrest. Understood?"

Yuri snaps, turning to look at the King Regent, who's wearing an almost imperceptible smug smile. He clutches the papers in his hand tightly, and it takes all of his self-control to hold back what he actually wants to say. "Your highness, if I may be honest, I believe there are more pressing issues in the kingdom that would require my attention." He says instead, trying his best to keep his own expression as neutral as possible.

The King Regent frowns, his gaze turns even colder.

"Are you perhaps suggesting that these blatant mockeries of our beloved prince should go unpunished? Or are you presuming you are better qualified to decide what should take priority in this kingdom?"

Yuri stiffens "N-no, Your Highness." he rushes to say, turning to look down at the ground. "I apologize for my insolence." And he bites his tongue until he tastes blood to stop anything imprudent from spilling out.

The King waves his hand, uninterested. "And one more thing. You are to go alone. We could not afford to expend more men on such an unimportant task, could we, Captain?" his voice is still calm and cold, but there's a satisfied lilt to it. "You are dismissed."

Yuri wants to protest, but knows it will only worsen his situation, so he bows again and walks out of the room, his fists clenched so tight his nails are biting into his palm, crumpling the 'Wanted' posters on his left hand. Once the doors close behind him, he lets go of a long, frustrated growl.

"Oi, are you really gonna do that? It's so stupid!" Mila pipes in, her red hair bouncing as she pops up from behind a column, reaching to take the posters from Yuri's hands.

Yuri sighs, keeping the posters away from Mila. "I have no choice, do I?"

She pouts, leaning all her weight against his side. "Awww, and I was _so_ looking forward to your birthday party! Georgi and I have been planning it for _weeks_!"

Maybe this sucky assignment was a blessing after all. "Like hell I want a birthday party, especially organized by you and fucking Georgi." He barks, pulling away, leaving Mila leaning on air. He smirks a little when she falls.

"I'm coming with you."

Yuri looks up to meet Otabek's dark eyes. He's leaning against the wall, his hand resting leisurely on the handle of his sword. His expression betrays no emotion other than silent determination. Yuri swallows around the knot at the base of his throat.

"No, you heard him, I have to do this alone." Otabek opens his mouth, ready to argue. Yuri's a little surprised by how upset he seems. "And someone needs to be in charge of the soldiers while I'm gone, no way in hell I'm letting this old hag do that." He continues, pointing at Mila, before Otabek can protest.

"Say that again and I'll throw you out the window, little Captain. I _can_ still lift you, in case you've forgotten."

Yuri snarls at her and stomps down the corridor, towards the castle gates. Some of the Regent's private guards whisper as he walks by, some of them laugh. They're probably having the time of their lives, seeing the great and prodigious Yuri Plisetsky humiliated. His own men have always been loyal –if notoriously annoying-, but the King Regent's soldiers never took too well to having a man so young –and a commoner to boot- promoted to such a prestigious position.

Mila and Otabek walk with him to the stables, where he saddles his mare, thrusting the crumpled posters in one of his travel bags. He bites his lip as he gazes at the names and drawings.

"Aren't you going to visit your Grandpa before leaving?" Mila asks, holding an apple for the mare to munch on as they pull her out of the stables.

Yuri hesitates just as he's about to get on the saddle. "No." he says after a moment. "I don't want him to get worried thinking the King's got his eye on me. This should be over fast." He says, and he's not sure if he's trying to reassure Mila or himself.

Otabek places a hand on his forearm, effectively stopping him from grabbing the reins. "You can't blame us for worrying. These dancers you're chasing are apparently fast enough to outrun Agape, the fastest mare in the kingdom, on foot." He pats the mare's white neck gently, but the gaze he levels at Yuri is pointed and meaningful.

Yuri looks away, shaking Otabek's arm off and reaching for the reins. "I'll do my job. That's all." He says coldly and nudges Agape to start walking. "Oh, and can you bring Pyotya to my Grandpa's place? Since I won't be around for… a few days." He knows it'll be more than that, but he doesn't really want to think about it. He just hopes his cat won't completely forget about him in the time he's gone.

"Sure. I'll look after both of them." Otabek still looks like he wants to argue, but he smiles at Yuri, and even know he can tell he's forcing it, it still makes him blush a little.

"Thanks, I really... I'll be back soon."

He calls on the mare to pick up some speed as he approaches the city gates and only looks back once to see both Mila yelling "We'll have lots of birthday pirozhki when you come back, so do it quickly!" and Otabek waving at him. The mare turns to full gallop as they leave the city and Yuri knows where he has to start searching.

 

* * *

 

Victor doesn't remember the last time he was awakened by something other than the first streaks of daylight. There's an annoying noise somewhere in the distance this morning, but he's reluctant to open his eyes, not because he dreads the boredom of another uneventful day, but because he feels so warm and comfortable he can't even entertain the thought of leaving his bed.

"VITYA!"

His eyes fly open as his ears process the hollering voice and what it means ( _jesus, how can he scream so loud?_ ). He's not actually on his bed, and his knees hurt and his legs are a little numb from the awkward position he slept in, but he's not particularly concerned about it. He stops, briefly, to contemplate Yuuri's still sleeping face, delights himself knowing the magic he felt last night was real, that he didn't dream it all. He can't afford to linger though, or Yakov might think something's happened. And something _has_ indeed happened, and Victor can't wait to tell Yakov all about it. Surely, once he meets Yuuri, he'll be as charmed as Victor is, and will allow Victor to leave the tower, since he'll have a kind and sweet companion to protect him from all of those greedy, scary people Yakov's taught him to fear.

It's almost thrilling to throw his hair out the window and pull Yakov up, so excited he is to tell his guardian of the good news. He's forced to tamper his excitement, for Yakov's expression is grim and sour when he steps into the tower.

"What on Earth were you doing? I was worried when you didn't answer!" he barked, grabbing Victor's shoulders.

"I-I… I'm sorry, Yakov." Victor stammers, taken aback by Yakov's dramatic reaction. "I was sleeping."

Yakov raises an eyebrow, his hands dropping for Victor's shoulders. "Sleeping? You never sleep so late." He states, crossing his arms over his chest. "You haven't even brushed your hair." He notes, gaze travelling to what Victor assumes are fuzzes of Makkachin's fur and dirt stuck at random places all over his long, long silver hair.

Victor smiles nervously. He wanted to lead the conversation to Yuuri slowly, but since Yakov's bringing it up…

"Yes, actually. I had the most wonderful evening and it left me drained. You'll never guess what happened last night."

His little tease seems to catch Yakov's interest. "Oh? And what was it, exactly?" His tone is incredulous and yet somehow displeased. Victor frowns. Yakov can be such a stick in the mud sometimes (most of the time).

"Well, remember how you've been telling me all these years that the world outside is so dangerous and full of people that can't be trusted?" he inquires, waving at Yakov to follow him. He intends to take Yakov to his bedroom so he can see Yuuri's adorable sleeping face; certain that one quick glance will be enough to convince Yakov of how trustworthy he is. "Because I think I've found something that will solve the problem!"

Yakov's scowl deepens as the climb up the stairs to Victor's room. "Solve the problem?" he repeats, his voice dropping an octave, and Victor hesitates for a brief moment.

"Y-yes, I've found a way that I can leave and not—"

"You're not leaving this tower, Vitya. I told you not to ask anymore."

Victor' feels a knot forming at the base of his throat. "But, Yakov, just listen—"

"I said no, the dangers outside aren't just going to magically disappear because you want them to."

"But if you'd just see—"

"Stop this foolishness, Victor!"

 

 

 

Victor stops dead in his tracks, his heart plummeting to the ground.

 

 

 

"I don't care what nonsense you think you've come up with, it's too dangerous outside, now more than ever. I told you to drop it already, won't you ever listen to what I tell you?"

Victor clenches his fist and bites back the tears. If only Yakov would meet Yuuri he would-.

"So what is it you want to show me?"

He glances upstairs quickly, but Victor blocks his path before he can continue his way to his room. "Nothing!" he blurts, trying to smile. "Like you said, it's meaningless." He realizes Yakov might do something to Yuuri if he finds him whilst being so upset, and Victor's not going to take that risk. "I'll just, uh… I thought I'd left my brush upstairs, but I just remembered it's in the kitchen. I really need to do something about this." he gestures at the knots and tangles in his hair, hoping it makes for a convincing change of subject.

Yakov considers it for a moment, studying Victor closely with his scrutinizing gaze, but he nods at last and turns back to return downstairs. He glances upstairs one more time and sighs, swallowing his disappointment as best he can.

As Yakov brushes his hair slowly, a little forcefully on some of the knots, Victor's mind races. What should he do about Yuuri? Yakov won't let him leave, but he doesn't even want to fathom the idea of letting Yuuri go and staying alone in this tower once again. It's just unthinkable. After getting that taste of life and joy, he doesn't want to go back to his boring, solitary routine. But he can't keep Yuuri trapped in the tower, and if he wakes up and comes down, Yakov will see him. Victor's not sure how that last scenario would play out, but he's certain it won't be enjoyable. He needs to get rid of Yakov so he gets some time to think of what he'll do.

Munching on an apple he thinks about the line of the seasons he painted on his wall, of how the sunlight hovered a breath away from the mark of the Winter equinox. His birthday is in four days and he'd been so sure Yakov would let him go see the lights if he met Yuuri, the mere thought of having to watch from afar, in the darkness of this tower yet again, makes his eyes sting. Yakov comes to check on him every day, so even if he sneaks out today, Yakov will find out tomorrow and come chase him, and it's not like Victor's going to get too far too fast dragging all this hair behind him. If only there were some way to keep Yakov away for a few days, so Victor has time to go see the lights with Yuuri, then come back, Yakov would never know and—

 

 

Oh.

 

 

He jolts in his seat.

"Yakov! I know what I want for my birthday!"

"I already said-"

"No, no! Not the lights." He tries to tamper his excitement, or Yakov might think (realize) he's lying. "I want new dancing blades."

Yakov eyes him suspiciously. "I just brought you a new pair in Spring."

Victor sighs dramatically whipping his head in fake dejection, his long hair falling out of Yakov's grasp. "Well, I need new ones. It's not like I have a lot to do in here, so I use them a lot."

By the look on Yakov's face, Victor knows he's not really sold on his excuse and he's afraid his ruse has been discovered, but Yakov just grunts and leans back in his chair. "Fine. Do you want me to bring them tomorrow or can you wait until your actual birthday?"

That's exactly the question Victor was hoping to hear. He beams "No, no! I don't want just any pair of blades." He rushes to his bookshelf, thumbing through the tomes for a moment until he finds what he's looking for, then skips back to where Yakov sits. He flips through the book pages until he finds a two-page illustration of a winter dancer, pointing at the blades he's wearing. "I want them to be _gold_!"

Yakov looks up at him and frowns. "You can't have blades made of gold. They'd be too heavy to dance."

Victor purses his lips, affronted. "Well, maybe not _entirely_ made of gold, but surely you can figure something out? _Please_ , Yakov, they look beautiful!" he jabs his finger at the illustration that emphasizes the golden glint of the blades, eyes sparkling. He may have come up with this wish on the fly, but he's getting excited about the idea nonetheless.

"There might be a way, but they won't be easy to get. They wouldn't be ready for your birthday." Yakov hums, eyeing the illustration for a moment, his scowl deepening. "And I wouldn't be able to come for a week at best, probably even more."

It takes all of Victor's self-control not to cheer triumphantly. This is better than expected. "Please, please, _pleeeeease_ , Yakov, I'll never ask for anything else again, I swear." He whines, joining his hands as if in prayer, even managing to force a couple of fake tears to the corners of his eyes.

Yakov groans. "You say the exact same thing _every time_ you ask for something." He says, but Victor knows he's won. "Are you sure you'll be fine on your own for so long?" he asks, sounding concerned.

"Of course! I won't be alone, I'll have Makkachin!" _And Yuuri_ , he thinks withholding the overly-pleased grin pulling at the corners of his mouth "And you brought me provisions yesterday, so we'll be perfectly fine, right buddy?"

Makkachin barks in agreement and Victor hugs him to make a point. Yakov sighs and stands from the table.

"Alright then. I'll leave right away so I can get back as soon as possible." He looks up at Victor, his brows still furrowed with worry. "Don't do anything reckless, Vitya."

"I won't, I promise." He says, almost regretting it all. Yakov's always been good to him and lying to him feels terrible. But he thinks of all these years dreaming of seeing the lights, and the music of Yuuri's dancing, and how Yakov wouldn't even listen to what he had to say, and knows there's no going back now. " _Dasvidanya_." He says, and kisses Yakov's cheek before helping him on the platform so he can lower him back to the snow-covered ground.

As soon as he's lost sight of Yakov, his figure disappearing in the woods, Victor rushes upstairs to check on Yuuri, and is surprised to find him sitting on the bed with his eyes wide open, frantically patting the sheets around him as if searching for something.

"Yuuri, good morning!" he beams, bouncing on the mattress to sit next to him. "How did you sleep? Do you need anything? Are you hungry?" he fires rapidly, heart hammering in his chest with excitement.

 

 

Yuuri shrieks.

 

 

"W-who are you?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot Twist: The only thing Yuuri's stealing in this AU is Victor's heart, Part II  
> I'm just so terribly inspired I wrote this chapter in like two days? That hasn't happened in a while? I'm really happy with how Victor's scene with Yakov turned out -I've been building for that 'you always say it's the last' joke since chapter 2, pls appreciate it-, as well as drunk dancing with Yuuri. I hope you guys liked it too
> 
> Yurio finally makes his official appearance, I feel the scene is a little awkward, but I needed to get it out. Although he's the one that's gonna be chasing our boys, his role is going to be quite different from Max in Tangled (for some reason many have made him a literal horse when doing this AU? LOL?), so I'm excited to show you everything that I've planned for him. Like I literally can't wait. 
> 
> In case anyone was wondering, Victor is 26 (soon 27), Yuuri is 24 and Yurio is 18 (soon to be 19). I wanted to keep them in their canon ages and birthdays, but for plot-related reasons, Yurio's stats had to be changed. I don't know what happened during my outlining process, but suddenly most of the non-romance plot came to depend heavily on Yurio, oops. All will become clear eventually. ~~if anyone comes at me w/ "oh you just aged yurio up so you don't look like a creep for shipping him w/ otabek" imma gut you~~. Yuuri's a year older because... well if you paid attention to the first two chapters, there's a little hint there, but it's mostly for my own satisfaction, I'm just used to Yuuri being 24 now.
> 
> I feel like maybe I'm screaming at the void, but I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this. I'm majorly excited about this story and it's a little disheartening that it doesn't seem to be gathering much interest. Never underestimate how important comments are for us writers, we wither and die without them ;---;
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and want to know more about it/send me some love, you can hmu @ [my tumblr](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com). Comments are always the most encouraging kind of support! ~~if you're wondering why you're seeing this copy-pasted everywhere it's because I had to edit shit out due to a good samaritan report hahahaha~~
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading and I'll be waiting with baited breathe to hear your opinions and theories.


	5. And they set off on a journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is used to waking up to weird things and strange places after overstepping his alcoholic boundaries, but this morning -with the crushing hangover, the thirty-foot-tall tower that has no visible way down and the beautiful man with hair so long Yuuri can't even see where it ends- certainly takes the prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My perennial gratitude to @dontcallmekoko for proofreading and helping me find synonyms for "confused"

It's the yelling that wakes him. It's distant and incomprehensible, but loud enough to break through the fog of sleep and set off a splitting headache that makes it impossible to keep his eyes closed. Of course, he regrets the moment he opens them and the blinding light of the sun only makes his head spin and invokes a wave of nausea. Yuuri is unfortunately too acquainted with these symptoms not to know what's going on.

"What did I even drink…" he moans into the fluffy surface he was sleeping in, his memory fuzzy and his mouth tasting like bile. He vaguely remembers the snow and the forest and feeling dizzy and lost and freezing and the flask of suspicious smelling alcohol Chris had given him, and then the most wonderful and vivid dreams of dancing with the Lost Prince under the moonlight and-

 

Chris.

 

Chris and Phichit.

 

He bolts up on the spot, (and his head spins so hard he almost collapses back on the bed) remembering their performance, the royal guard, losing sight of Phichit and Chris as they ran away, drinking Chris's disgusting liquid courage because he was sure he was going to die, frozen in the forest.

He obviously didn't die, but the bursting pain in his head is making him wonder if surviving had been such a great thing to begin with.

And how _did_ he even survive? He doesn't have any memories after drinking Chris's liquor except for blurry after images of his usual dream of dancing with the Lost Prince, just weirder and more incoherent than usual. Did he make it here on his own in spite of his frozen limbs and as drunk as he was? Did someone find him and carry him over to this… place?

_Where am I?_

It's hard to make out his location through the blur of his poor eyesight, which also reminds him of how Phichit has his glasses. The incredibly soft mattress doesn't feel familiar, and he certainly doesn't recognize the stone walls or the bedposts that look like they're made out of fine wood. His first thought is that his friends found him and brought him to an inn, but the room he's in looks too spacious for what they can usually afford. He leans back on his palms and feels them sting sharply so he brings them closer to his face to examine them and finds them red, swollen and full of cuts and scrapes. What did he even do last night?

He lets himself fall back on the bed and almost gets swallowed by how comfortable and warm it is. With his pounding headache and nausea, along with the frustrating fog that covers his memories, going back to sleep and leaving all his concerns for tomorrow's Yuuri to deal with sounds awfully tempting. But of course, the sunlight pouring into the room is so bright even his closed eyelids can't protect him from it. He groans and turns to the side to see a wide open window that's letting _all_ of the light in and then some. The outside world looks so bright, even squinting he can't tell if there's anything beyond that accursed window that could help him pinpoint his location.

Just as he's trying to motivate himself to roll off the bed and crawl over to the window (he doesn't trust his legs will carry his weight all the way there if he attempts to walk), he starts to feel something's missing. There's his glasses, but he knows Phichit has them so he's not that worried. He sits up and pats himself down: still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, save for the shoes, but he remembers he didn't have time to put them back on when he started running, so those are probably lost for good. He wasn't particularly attached to them, but he'll have to get a new pair made, and he's out of money-they didn't even get to collect anything from the audience yesterday. He sighs, dragging his hand over his face. And then he notices. He scrambles to pull his sleeve down so he can look at his arm. His eyes widen and his heart sinks in his chest. His _treasure_ is missing. His—

"Yuuri, good morning!"

He shrieks.

 

Yuuri's head spins and he nearly falls off the bed, his stomach flipping over as he barely makes out a human figure that he doesn't recognize, sitting on the bed. He manages to catch himself before he completely falls off the edge and get back to a sitting position before eyeing the stranger.

"W-who are you?" he blurts, heart thundering in his chest, trying to compose himself.

It's only then that his vision focuses so he can make out the stranger's face and watch it form what looks like a pout. It's a man he's looking at, with pale skin and the brightest blue eyes he's ever seen, a soft pink blush on the tip of his nose, a sharp jaw, sweetly curved lips and a cascade of silver hair falling beyond his broad shoulders. Yuuri feels a flutter in his belly. He's never met someone so beautiful.

A loud bark pulls him out of his trance and he whips his head around to see a dog with fluffy fur and a happy face and—

"Vicchan?!" he squeals, his heart leaping in his chest, but as the dog sprints closer and turns bigger, he realizes his mistake. It's too late though, because the dog is already on top of him, panting happily like it didn't just push all the air out of Yuuri's lungs with its weight.

The bed bounces and suddenly the stranger's beautiful face is really close. "Yes! Vitya! But it's okay if you call me Victor too, I don't mind either."

His eyes are sparkling so much they look even more blinding than the sun, yet for some reason they're not giving Yuuri a headache. Maybe they're even making it recede somehow. His cheeks feel very hot. And sloppily wet. Oh. "Ow, no, please, wait, you're much bigger." He whines at the dog, winded.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry! Makkachin!" The dog is pushed off Yuuri's body by the stranger –Victor, he just said his name is Victor, what are the odds that the most beautiful man Yuuri's ever seen also happens to have the most beautiful name, there's no way he's not dreaming, right? But then again, he's never dreamed of such a horrible hangover, so everything's just very confusing- "—need to stop greeting people like that, you could've hurt him!" Victor's saying, and Yuuri musters the strength to sit up yet again to see the dog whine unhappily.

"Ah it's… it's okay, V-victor." He swallows around the name and his cheeks feel hot once again. "I-I'm fine so don't be too hard on him." He shakes his head and rubs the dog's drool from his face, trying to remember all those questions he had before Victor wiped them away with his blinding, beautiful presence. "Ah, are my friends awake already?" he tries.

Victor cocks his head and quirks an eyebrow. "Friends?" he parrots, touching his lip pensively. "Which friends?"

Yuuri doesn't like how that sounds at all. "Uhm, well, someone brought me here, right?"

"No." Victor shakes his head. He looks puzzled. "You were alone when you arrived."

Yuuri's eyes widen. It's not possible. "But how did I get here?"

Victor shrugs. "I don't know. You appeared on the window out of nowhere."

The accursed window again. Yuuri rolls off the bed, ignoring his mounting headache and Victor mumbling "Technically not _that_ window but—". His limbs feel heavy, but he finally makes his way towards that huge, horrible window. Once he reaches it and looks outside, all he finds is clean air and the blue sky, the blinding sun and clouds, a 30 feet fall, treetops in the distance, mountains even further away. Something in his mind sets off an alarm and he does a double take to look down towards the ground.

He shrieks again, leaping away from the window and the fall to certain death that awaits beyond.

"W-what do you mean I 'appeared on the window'?!" He looks back at Victor, feeling his eyes so wide they might pop out of their sockets. "Is there like, a ladder or something?"

Victor shakes his head again. "Nope. You were just… just there." His eyes start shining then, a wide smile growing on his lips. "I think the Moon sent you to me!"

Yuuri's so lost. "The Moo—" he yelps, tripping over something before he can even ask what Victor means. He searches the floor, dizzy and half-blind, to find whatever it is that made him fall, and his hands find a stream of silver threads. But they're not exactly threads, he realizes the moment he picks a handful of them. It's hair.

Perhaps all the commotion of the morning has overwhelmed his mind so much he doesn't even wonder why there's a heap of hair –soft, silky, the prettiest color he's ever seen- lying on the floor and instead follows it with his eyes all the way to Victor.

 

Victor, who's still sitting on the bed, at least five paces away.

 

Today is shrieking day, it seems.

 

* * *

 

This is the third time Yuuri screeches since Victor came up here and he's not sure of what to make of it. That, in addition to all those weird questions about his friends or how he got here are making him feel awfully confused, like he's missing something.

"Yuuri, what's wrong?" he asks, pacing towards Yuuri, who's still kneeling on the floor by the window, clutching a handful of Victor's hair and gawking like he's never seen _any_ hair before.

He gets no reaction whatsoever until he's leaning down in front of Yuuri, their noses almost touching. Yuuri squeaks when their eyes meet and he flinches backwards a little.

"Y-your hair's… really long…" he says, eyes still fixed on the silver locks in his hands.

Victor doesn't really understand the observation and he threads his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. "You don't like it?" he asks, cautiously.

Yuuri flinches again (why does he keep doing that?) and shakes his hand in front of his face, frantically. "N-n-no! That's not-!" his fingers get tangled in Victor's hair. "It-it's really beautiful." He sputters and he scrambles to set his fingers free, dropping the heap of hair he was holding back to the floor. Then he seems to catch on to what he just said and his ears burn crimson. "Ah! No, I didn't mean—"

Victor's not quite sure why Yuuri looks so troubled, but his heart swells with the praise nonetheless.

"I'm just… curious. You, uhm… you never cut it?"

"Cut? No!" he shrieks, the word alone making him cringe as his mind immediately goes to Yakov's short gray hair and the bright bald spot over his head. "I never wanna end up like _that_!" he whines, clutching at his scalp as if that will prevent his hair from eventually falling off.

Of course, the main reason he´s not supposed to cut his hair is that Yakov told him it'd lose its magic if he did, but he really is way more concerned about Yakov's bald spot and how he's seen it grow over the years. Every morning when he looks at himself in the mirror, he'd swear his forehead looks bigger and his hair seems thinner... not that he'd tell Yuuri that because Yuuri called him a Prince last night, and showing such pathetic fears would be unbecoming of one according to all those books he's read. He composes himself, smoothing his hand over his hair and clears his throat, turning again to glance at Yuuri, who's still sitting on the floor and looking terribly perplexed.

"A-anyway, we don't have time to think about pointless things, we need to get ready for our trip!" he bounces back, already feeling excitement bubble up in his belly.

He's disappointed to see Yuuri doesn't seem to mirror that feeling, and in fact, continues to look somewhere on the spectrum of confusion and bewilderment.

"T-trip? What trip?"

Well, it's natural, since this is a decision Victor made kind of on the spot. "I was actually hoping to enlist your help, Yuuri." He says, trying to keep it mysterious. Hopefully that'll pique his interest.

It seems to work, since it makes Yuuri look up at him at last instead of focusing on his crumpled hair. "Help?" he parrots.

"Yes!" Victor beams. "See, my birthday's coming soon and I was hoping you could take me to see the lights!" he tries to sound casual, hoping his desperation doesn't show too much.

Yuuri cocks his head. "Lights?" Is Yuuri just repeating everything he says? Has all that weird screeching broken Yuuri?

"Oh, you haven't seen them?" That could put a dent in his perfect plan. If Yuuri doesn't know what they are, how are they going to get there? "They only appear once a year, around there." He points out the window, in the general direction of where he's seen them float away so many times. "There's a lot of them and they look like stars, but _I know_ they're not stars, they're even more beautiful, and they always float away. It'll happen four days from today." He tries to explain, and finds it a little harder than expected considering how much he's been thinking of this.

Yuuri seems pensive for a moment, but then his face lights up with realization. "Oh! You mean the festival for the Lost Prince!"

Now it's Victor who feels confused. "Lost Prince?" Maybe they're just trading off confusion.

If he weren't so befuddled he'd be even more appreciative of how cute Yuuri looks with his eyebrows raised so high they almost touch his hairline. "You've never heard of the Lost Prince with the Moonlight hair? How he was loved by everyone and his winter dancing blessed the kingdom?"

Victor frowns and he hums, deep in thought. His hands run through his hair absentmindedly. Yuuri waits, almost holding his breathe, like his whole life is hanging on that answer. Victor's hair looks like liquid silver as it slips through his fingers. It really is indescribably beautiful.

"No, it doesn't sound familiar, sorry."

It's a little bit funny how Yuuri's jaw almost drops to the ground. "Wha—I can't believe-" He takes a deep breath to compose himself. "The lights you're talking about, I'm almost sure they're the Moon lanterns from the festival for the Lost Prince. They release thousands of them from the capital, and it'll be four nights from today, just like you said." His expression softens then, a small smile growing on his lips. Warmth blooms on Victor's cheeks. "It's a beautiful festival, the whole city looks like the stars have come down from the sky."

Victor's belly flutters with excitement and relief. He's not crazy. The lights exist and they're not stars. He's been right all along. "Sounds wonderful, I'd love to see that! We can go together!" he squeals, holding both of Yuuri's hands in his, almost bouncing on his toes with delight, heart leaping in his chest when he sees himself reflected in Yuuri's big brown eyes.

Unexpectedly, Yuuri's expression drops almost as quickly as it had brightened, and he looks away from Victor, gaze fixed on the floor.

"I-I'm sorry, Victor. I… I can't go to the city…" he chews on his lower lip and pulls away, letting Victor's hands fall limp in the growing space between. "I-I should leave, I need to find—" he trails off, turning away.

 

"Oh." Victor's heart drops to the ground and his chest tightens in disappointment.

 

He'd really… he'd really thought Yuuri had been sent by fate to change his life, to open the door to that world of surprises and adventures, of life and love he's always longed for.

 

How foolish. He'd gotten his hopes so high. Yakov was right, he should've known things don't just magically work out the way he wants them to. And now Yuuri wants to leave, and he's sent Yakov away for a full week staking _everything_ on this little sliver of hope that has just vanished, so he'll have to spend his birthday alone in the dark yet again.

 

From the corner of his watery eyes, he sees Yuuri moving around the room, hears him shuffling things, but he's so deflated he decides to ignore it, his hands curling into tight fists. Having his dream crushed after thinking it'd finally come true hurts way more than all of Yakov's refusals. Somewhere in his heart, he feels like this was his last chance and now he'll never get to see the lights that he so loves, never know what they are or if they're really his like he's always thought they were.

"Uhm… sorry I… have you seen a bracelet around here? It has blue roses on it?"

Victor looks up and wills himself to bite back the tears. He thinks, for a moment, but he doesn't recall seeing anything like that since last night. Briefly, he considers lying, telling Yuuri he has the bracelet and that he'll give it back if Yuuri takes him to see the lights. But he can't really bring himself to do something so vile, Yakov's taught him better than that, so he just shakes his head.

Makkachin prods into the room, panting, and drops something at Victor's feet. He glances down to see a pair of dancing blades, but they look different from his. Could they be…?

"Oh! My blades! Thank you! I thought I'd lost them in the forest, I was so worried…" Yuuri ruffles Makkachin's fur and picks up the blades, smiling, and for the smallest instant, Victor gets excited again. Is Yuuri a winter dancer? Can he teach him things Yakov hasn't? He remembers how beautifully they danced last night, even when Yuuri wasn't wearing any blades. How much more musical would he be if he had them? Maybe they could build a stronger bond through that special thing they shared, maybe-

But he remembers Yuuri's _leaving_ , leaving but not willing to bring Victor along, and he doesn't want to talk to him anymore, so he goes downstairs to the room of ice, hoping the cold will freeze his heartache.

* * *

Yuuri's been searching for hours now, but there's no sign of his bracelet, and the knot at the base of his throat just keeps getting tighter. He even goes as far as to ask Victor's adorable poodle to help him –if it found his blades, maybe it can find his treasure too, but it's all for naught.

Eventually, he decides to try and enlist Victor's help too. He might know of some secret place in this tower where lost items disappear too. It's only then he notices Victor's not in the room anymore, so he follows the path of silver hair (he's not sure whether to wonder how long is his hair, or how _is_ his hair so long) down a set of stairs where he finds an even more spacious room, what looks like a kitchen and a dining table, another hellish window, a bookshelf against the wall, toys spread around the floor, but no sign of any other person being here. Does Victor live alone in this freakishly high tower? He continues following the stream of silver hair down yet another set of stairs where the temperature has dropped considerably. There's a doorway at the end of it and once Yuuri crosses it, he forgets why he even came here to begin with.

The room is freezing cold, and the entire area of the floor is covered with shimmering ice. And on top of the ice, there's Victor, and he's almost flying on the surface. Yuuri's met a lot of winter dancers in his life, but none that dance as beautifully and ethereally as Victor. He almost doesn't look real. His bright silver hair dances with him. It crosses Yuuri's mind, that if there is _any_ magic in this world, this –Victor dancing, twirling and breezing on the ice- _this_ has to be it. It shouldn't even be possible for him to dance at all with hair so long and obtrusive, but somehow he does and he's the most beautiful vision Yuuri has ever encountered. His heart pounds in his chest.

He's not sure of how long he keeps staring, completely entranced by the way Victor dances, how he jumps so high it's like he's grown wings on his feet, how he spins on the ice like his body was made of water, how he looks like he burns, hot and passionate on every move, his control over the edges of his dancing blades flawless, and his chest aches seeing the melancholic longing in his moves and his expression, how he seems to be reaching for something that's so, so far away.

The trance isn't broken even after Victor stops in the middle of the room, panting, his arms wrapped around his neck, and all Yuuri can do is applaud slowly. His clapping echoes around the room and makes Victor notice his presence.

Yuuri frets. "A-ah, I'm sorry! I was just—I didn't mean to interrupt you, that –that was very beautiful." He flails ashamed.

"Oh…" Victor says simply, visibly confused. His expression darkens almost immediately, and he crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from Yuuri. "Thanks," he says, but doesn't sound like he means it, his voice tinted with sorrow. And Yuuri remembers how excitedly Victor asked to go to the festival and how he's been acting so dejected ever since Yuuri refused.

"Uhm, about the festival…" he starts. How he wishes he could say yes, lead this beautiful man wherever he wants to go, "I could… if you have a map I can show you where it is." but he's a fugitive and he doesn't have that luxury, so the least he can do is help him as much as humanly possible.

Victor's interest seemed to have been perked for a moment, but his shoulders sag once again and he steps off his dancing blades, stomping past Yuuri.

Yuuri follows him without thinking much about the reason, just that he wants to see Victor smile the way he had when he'd woken up, so bright and warm it almost erased Yuuri's hangover, and he doesn't know how to.

"I-I mean, if you can show me where we are right now, I—"

"I can't."

"Eh?"

Victor climbs up the stairs and heads back to the bedroom, plopping down on the bed, his dog soon following to curl by his side.

"I don't know where this place is on any map." He mumbles, and buries himself under blankets.

"Oh, okay…" Victor seems to be getting more upset by the minute and Yuuri doesn't know what to do, but he's desperate to make him feel better. "That's alright, there's other ways. Uhm, if you show me the way to the nearest town maybe they have a map or indications so you could get to the—"

"JUST DROP IT."

Yuuri feels his heart freeze at how raw and hurt Victor's voice sounds. Just a minute ago he'd been so beautiful on the ice, but now he's so small and so angry and Yuuri doesn't understand.

"I'm sure there must be a village somewhere close, somewhere you can get food?" he tries again, softly. His dancing blades looked fairly new, he must have gotten them somewhere, and it's not like they're easy to find, Victor must have some place he goes to get supplies. He hesitates, but sits on the edge of the bed and absentmindedly starts scratching the dog's head. It whines, as if it understands its owner's rage.

There's a minute of quiet, and he wonders if Victor's decided not to talk to him anymore at all. He waits, watches the bedsheets rise and fall rhythmically, feels the room fall in complete silence.

"I don't know of any towns, or maps or roads. I don't know anything outside of this tower." Victor says, quietly, so quietly Yuuri almost misses it.

Yuuri's eyes widen. "What do you mean? Have you never gone outside?"

The movement under the bedsheets seems to be a negative headshake.

Dread starts to slowly, slowly coil in Yuuri's stomach. He doesn't like where this conversation is going. His mind races, there has to be a decent explanation for this. He shouldn't jump to conclusions.

"Okay. So how long have you been in here?"

Victor curls further into himself. "I don't know? I don't remember ever being anywhere else."

A decent explanation. There has to be one.

"And why have you never left?"

Victor turns to look at him at last, and there's doubt and fear in his crystalline blue eyes. "Yakov says I can't."

Yuuri's stomach twists uncomfortably. The more he hears, the worse it sounds. "Who's Yakov?"

Victor shrugs. "Yakov's just Yakov. He says he's not my father, but he's always taken care of me and made sure I didn't go outside where it's dangerous."

Yuuri suddenly feels very cold, but not the kind of familiar cold from the ice. That coiling feeling of dread has spread through his body, and he feels heavy. His first thought is that what Victor says makes no sense at all, that he's overthinking it, that there absolutely has to be some reasonable explanation for this, because the alternative is just too terrible. But then he thinks how Victor mentioned there are no stairs to climb up the tower and his mind starts to put all the pieces of the puzzle together –and something else starts unfolding in his gut.

 

_I don't remember ever being anywhere else._

 

How old is Victor? He looks a little older than himself. And he's never, ever been outside because someone just put him in this tower that has no way out? It's absurd, it doesn't make sense, but most of all, it makes him furious.

 

 

"I'll do it."

 

 

Victor sits up, eyes wide.

No backing out now.

"This Yakov person, when will he be back?"

"In a week or so."

Good, that's perfect.

 

 

"I'll do it. I'll get you out of here and take you to the festival." He has no idea of how he's going to achieve that, but common sense be damned. He can't just sit here and let Victor stay a prisoner forever. He won't.

 

 

Victor kneels on the bed and clasps Yuuri's hands again, eyes growing wide with expectation. "Really? Really, really?"

Yuuri nods. "We're leaving right away; you should pack your things and—" he doesn't get to finish that thought because his back hits the mattress and when his vision focuses as much as it can without his glasses, Victor's face is terribly close again.

"Oh, Yuuri, thank you, thank you!" he squeals, his arms tight around Yuuri's torso, and his smile grows bigger and bigger until it's taken the shape of a heart.

 

 

Oh no.

 

 

Oh no, he's doomed.

 

 

 

It's the most beautiful smile in the world.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

Victor feels this tower isn't big enough to contain his excitement.

Yuuri shuffles all over the place, gathering stuff, Victor's not sure what for. "We can't be too far from some village if I arrived on foot last night." He grumbles as he puts together piles of food on two different cloths he's spread over the floor.

Makkachin hops around the place, sharing in the tension and thrill of the adventure ahead them. "Can you believe it, Makkachin?" Victor squeals, playing with his friend's floppy ears. "We're finally gonna' see the lights!" Finally, finally his lifelong dream is going to come true.

"Victor, do you have your things ready? It's already past midday, but I want us to get out of here and get some distance between us and this place before sundown." Yuuri admonishes, rummaging through a cabinet.

Victor doesn't really understand, but Yuuri, rather than excited, looks apprehensive and nervous. Is the outside world really that dangerous? Was Yakov right after all? He decides not to ask and to simply follow instructions, he's still a little afraid Yuuri will change his mind again.

Yuuri's said that they should travel as light as possible, but also that if he has something irreplaceable he should bring it too. So Victor brings his dancing blades because he wants to try dancing on a lake, or a river, somewhere where he can feel the snow falling on his cheeks and smell the trees. Will there be more people there? How will their dances be? Will Yuuri want to dance with him? He also brings his treasured piece of paper, the one that has the drawing of a poodle, carefully folds it and places it inside his clothes, where it won't get blown away by the wind. He considers taking a book or two, but they'll still be here when he comes back and he's sure he'll feel no need for a book when he'll have the whole wide world to marvel at.

"I'm ready, Yuuri!" he chirps.

"Oh, that's great, I'm almost done too." Yuuri smiles, a weak, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless and it gives Victor some sense of security. "I just need… would you happen to have spare shoes or something? I… lost mine." He says sheepishly, blushing a little and scratching the back of his head.

Victor hums, looks at Yuuri's small, bare feet, covered with cuts and bruises much like his own. _He really is a dancer_ , he thinks, fondness warming his chest. "Yeah, I think I have something that can fit you." He says.

Before he can turn around, Yuuri calls for him again. "And I also need a map." He says, and Victor winces. What's so great about maps? Why are they so necessary? "I-I know you said you can't find this place on a map, but do you have any? Maybe one that shows Novgorod?"

The name does sound familiar. He's seen it in a lot of maps, actually. Yakov _has_ taught him to read maps, he's just never told him where this tower is in any of them. And when Yakov's told him stories about boisterous cities or splendid castles and Victor has asked "is that close to here?" Yakov never answered. Victor doesn't understand why Yakov is so reluctant to let him know of their location, and only now he realizes how much that has frustrated him over the years. Yuuri's confirmed that the lights are not stars. Yakov must have known that, but he lied all these years, and never even showed him where this tower is or what's close to it. Just how much more has Yakov been hiding from him?

He pushes those thoughts aside and goes to find the shoes because he can imagine Yuuri's feeling cold after being barefoot all day; then he goes to his bookshelf and pulls out some of the maps Yakov has brought him over the years. He skims through three of them before he finds one that features the city Yuuri mentioned with some detail on its surrounding area and villages, then he finally skips back to where Yuuri has seemingly finished preparing.

"I hope they fit." Victor mumbles, a little worried, handing Yuuri his old shoes, a fairly simple pair of brown ankle-high boots with laces at the side. They're too small for him now, but Yuuri's a little smaller anyway.

Yuuri slips them in, tightens the laces, and wiggles his right foot, then the left, experimentally. "Wow, almost a perfect fit, thank you! You've saved me, I wasn't sure how I was going to walk on snow for days without shoes." He grins, taking a few more tentative steps until he appears satisfied by the result.

"That's good, I wouldn't want your feet getting cold." He replies, trying to sound suave, even punctuating the sentence with a wink. Does that make him more Prince-like? He can only hope. "I-I also got a map." He hurries to add, bringing it over to Yuuri. "Does this work? You said Novgorod, right? I don't really know where that is, but it appears in this one." he feels a little restless, dread creeping up his spine again, still unable to shake off the fear that Yuuri will choose to leave him here after all.

Yuuri examines the map and glances out the window for a few minutes, holding it towards the trees and mountains that surround them and mumbling to himself. Then he folds the map in and turns back to look at Victor. "If you've seen the lanterns come from over there," he says, pointing at that place in the distance from where the lights always come floating "I might have an idea of where we are, but I'm not sure. This should work anyway. Once we've walked a little and maybe after looking at the stars tonight it'll be easier to figure it out." He places the map in his travel bag, seemingly satisfied. "I'm getting you out of here, Victor, no matter what."

Maybe it's the determination in his voice, or how his gaze doesn't waver even for a second, his warm eyes fixed on Victor's, or how he stands firm and steady by the window, his figure framed by sunlight, but in that moment, Victor knows that trusting this man with his life and all his hopes and dreams has been the best decision of his life.

"I love how that sounds!" he beams.

Yuuri smiles back at him and Victor's heart flutters. "Alright, let's get moving then." He folds the cloths and laces them on top to be a pair of makeshift travel sacks. Then he stops and looks at Victor, cheeks dusted pink, "Uhm… How… you said there are no stairs to go all the way down."

"No, there aren't." Victor shrugs. "You'll have to go first." He steps towards the window, his hair bunched in his arms. "There's a platform down there, it's made of wood, I think Yakov hides it in those bushes. You need to bring it here so I can lift it up. That way I can get Makkachin and the bags down to you, and then I can come too."

Yuuri's gaze flickers from the window to Victor, and back to the window. "And how do I get down there? Do you have any rope or something…?"

Victor shakes his head. "No rope." Another thing Yakov has never brought him. He points out the window. "There's only one way down."

Yuuri yelps and looks over the windowsill. "There has to be another way though? We'll die if we jump fr—"

"Oh no, not like that, no! We'd _really_ die if we did that!" He laughs. "We use this." And he bounces his armful of hair and throws it over the hook hanging just out the window.

Yuuri gawks at him. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh, it's way easier than you think, Yakov did it like that before, but since he hurt his back we use the platform." Yuuri doesn't look very convinced by that plan. "It's actually like a rope, see?" He tugs on his hair, pulls it until he has a good handful, then lets it go and watches it stream downwards again. "Don't worry, it's really strong and you're probably lighter than Yakov, it won't hurt even if you pull a little."

Yuuri's growing hesitation makes him afraid again. Is this too much for him after all? Too complicated, too dangerous? He watches quietly as Yuuri looks out the window and down the abyss, then at Victor's hair that falls all the way to the snowy ground. Yuuri chews on his lip, glances at Victor, then back at his hair, and, at last, tentatively, reaches out to grab a handful of hair.

"Are you sure it won't hurt you?" His voice quivers.

Victor's cheeks grow warm and he shakes his head. "Go ahead. Just hold on tight." He worries, briefly, that Yuuri might fall, and for a moment thinks of pulling back, telling Yuuri to wait, that they'll find a safer way. He still doesn't even understand how Yuuri managed to climb all the way up here last night, but the apprehension is eating at him. He watches as Yuuri wraps hair around his waist, tugs on it a little and steps on the windowsill. He notices how his knees quiver and the tension in his shoulders. And then Yuuri looks at him, their eyes meet and Yuuri nods sharply, determination painting his features again.

"Alright, here we go." he chuckles nervously. "Wish me luck?"

Victor hums his assent. "B-be careful."

Yuuri nods again and immediately disappears from the windowsill. Victor rushes to the edge to look down and watch with baited breathe as Yuuri wobbles on his way down, his feet struggling to find the stone wall. He can feel Yuuri's weight pulling his hair, and strangely, it gives him a little bit of confidence. After the first few steps, Yuuri seems to catch some sort of rhythm and before Victor knows it, his feet are on the snow, looking like he can't quite believe he just did that. He looks up, smiling, and waves at Victor, and Victor waves back, his chest swelling with relief.

"The platform should be over there!" he shouts, pointing at the bushes Yakov usually employs as a hiding spot.

Yuuri follows his direction and after shuffling through the bushes for a few minutes, comes out dragging Yakov's platform, then points at it as if to confirm. Victor nods in approval. "Bring it over here so I can pull it up!"

It's all quite mechanical then, so much so Victor almost forgets what they're doing. The platform is up and he places their bags on it, then helps Makkachin climb over the windowsill. His friend whines and tries to claw his way back, but Victor smiles at him and coos in reassurance. "I'll meet you there in a minute, stay still." He says, scratching behind his ears and booping his nose affectionately.

The moment the platform reaches the ground, Makkachin leaps off it, tackling Yuuri down into the snow. Yuuri laughs and smiles up at Victor, waving again and Makkachin woofs, as if calling to him.

It's his turn now.

His heart hammers inside his chest, a tight knot twisting in his throat, making it hard to swallow. All the built-up excitement quickly morphs into terror. His breathing comes out ragged and dread coils in his stomach. This is a bad idea, a terrible, terrible idea. He shouldn't have lied to Yakov, it's too dangerous out there, it's not too late to change his mind. He can't do this. He absolutely can't do this. He's always been safe here, always had everything he wanted, why does he need to go out there where it's strange and dangerous? Yakov will be so mad, he'll be so disappointed. What if the snow burns his feet, what if the rain drips poison? What if he encounters bandits or criminals, what if the city's full of monstrous people like Yakov's always warned him about?

 

No, he definitely can't do this.

 

He'll just stay here and be good, Yakov knows what's best for him.

 

 

He pulls away from the window, shivering.

 

 

 

"Victor! Victor, are you alright? Do you need help?"

 

 

Hesitantly, he looks down to find Yuuri, concern clouding his eyes. He stands out, harsh black and blue against the whiteness of the snow. Then he looks at the horizon and thinks of the lights, of all the lonely nights, of all his dreams, of all the surprises that await him. Of Yuuri's smile and the warmth of his touch. Of the Life and Love he's never had.

 

 

 

 

He jumps.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this one took a little bit longer, I actually got heaps of inspiration to write ahead some of the climax scenes lol. Can't wait to get to those.
> 
> If you're wondering how did Yuuri climb up a 30-ish ft tall tower barehanded it was the power of destiny and Disney. In general if there's a leap in logic, it's the power of Disney, never forget.
> 
> I added a Slow Burn tag because even though they're gonna fall in love in like four days, it's taken us 18K words just to leave the tower lol.
> 
> So I read somewhere that for Russians, once you go for a diminutive (like Vitya), you never go back, but I'm intensely against Yuuri calling Victor 'Vitya' for no particular reason other than I just like how he says Victor too much, but I also needed to have poor Victor think Yuuri remembers their magical dance ;-;
> 
> Things I researched for this chapter because I'm ridiculous include but are not limited to: When was clapping invented, when was the heart symbol invented. Both were in use during or before medieval times so it's not out of place to mention them here. Also, Novgorod is an ancient capital-like town from the Middle Ages, located outside of current St Petersburg. BTW I didn't know this before I started writing, but Novgorod is a few km away from a hugeass lake called Lake Ilmen, for which I feel terribly accomplished. I'M SORRY THAT I OBSESS OVER THESE LITTLE STUPID DETAILS NO ONE ELSE THINKS OF
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and want to know more about it/send me some love, you can hmu @ [my tumblr](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com). Comments are always the most encouraging kind of support! ~~if you're wondering why you're seeing this copy-pasted everywhere it's because I had to edit shit out due to a good samaritan report hahahaha~~


	6. And they saw the world with wonder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri finally leave the tower and Victor gets to experience the world for the first time.

It's only after Makkachin decides to start exploring their surroundings and bark at the snow that Yuuri notices it's been a few minutes and Victor hasn't come down yet. He looks up at the window and doesn't see him leaning out either. He chews on his lip and gets back on his feet. Has something happened?

"Victor! Victor, are you alright? Do you need help?" He shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth in hopes Victor will hear him.

There's no response and Yuuri truly starts worrying that something has gone wrong. Maybe Victor tripped over his own hair and got hurt. Maybe having his hair used as a climbing rope by both Yuuri and Makkachin was not the easy-peasy 'I do this everyday' task he'd said it'd be.

The cascade of silver hair falling all the way from the window is kind of unreal, even after having touched it. Unbelievable. If someone had told him there was a man with hair so long it could reach the ground from the highest point of a 30-foot-tall tower, he would've thought they were crazy. Just the look of it, how it streams and flows, how soft it felt when Yuuri wrapped it around himself, how it slipped through his fingers like water, how it shimmers like a river made of precious stones under the sunlight, it's all so much like a fairytale, Yuuri's not fully convinced it won't disappear if he blinks.

And Victor's still not coming down.

He looks at his palms, red and scratched and bruised and still throbbing, then back up where there's no sign of Victor. If anything, he knows for certain that he was able to climb all the way up last night, so he should be able to do it now too. And he'll do it if Victor needs his help.

He takes a deep breath and shakes all logic and reason away, then holds onto the highest salient stone he can reach, ignoring the sting of pain on his palm.

He doesn't get to find another one to step on though, because the cascade of hair ripples, and when Yuuri looks up, Victor is sliding down the stream of silver.

 

* * *

 

Victor's stomach lurches and flips upside down, his heart jumps to the base of his throat. The wind howls in his ears and all he sees is a blur. His hair burns his palms. He's screaming. Or laughing. Maybe both. He's out, he's out, he's out!

It ends so fast he doesn't notice it's over until he feels the rumble of a groan right under him and directly in his ear. He opens his eyes to find a pair of warm chocolate browns, wide with astonishment.

"Yuuri!"

"V-Victor! Are you alright?"

Victor beams. "It was amazing!" His nose is almost touching Yuuri's, and from up close it's almost like he can look into the depths of Yuuri's large eyes. His heart races.

A quick look around tells him they're lying over the destroyed remains of Yakov's platform. And beyond the broken pieces of wood under and around them, there's the world.

His breath catches, eyes widen. Yuuri's silent underneath him. He squirms and trembles.

The floor is so much closer than the sky. He sees the bottoms of the trees, fallen leaves and branches, and smells the pines. He sees snow, snow, so much snow, as far as his eyes can reach, and he breathes the cold in. If he reached out with his fingers, he'd be able to touch it. He raises his hand, then stops. Sits back, kneels, then stands up and looks at the platform under his feet. Yakov's platform, the last layer separating him from everything that's outside. And it's broken, smashed, utterly destroyed. Meaningless. His bare toes hang from the edge of the shattered wood.

There's nothing holding him back anymore.

 

It's cold.

 

It's wet.

 

It's soft.

 

His foot sinks into it. Then the other. He jolts.

 

A speck of coldness lands on his nose. Then his cheek. Then he feels one on his head, on his shoulder. He stretches his arms and another falls on his palm. He looks up and sees white poofs falling slowly from the sky. He's seen snow fall before, but has never stood directly under it, having to settle for the little accumulations on his windowsill. He twirls where he stands, catching more snowflakes in his hands and watching them melt away.

He's seen this before, felt it before. Yet it's so strange and different.

 

So new.

 

He runs. Makkachin woofs in the distance. Victor jumps, yells, laughs, dances like he would in the frozen room of his tower. The shape of his feet stays on the snow, like a map of his own frenzy. He slips and falls on his hands and knees and he can _hold the snow_. He can shape it and bunch it together and it's so cold, it stings like little pinpricks on his palms. He lies on his back, arms and legs stretched wide. He moves his arms up and down. And when he stands, the imprint of his shape on the snow looks like it has wings. Like he can fly.

 

 

Like he's free.

 

 

His clothes are soaked and freezing, his fingers and toes are going numb. He steps on something sharp: a rock; then another thing: a pinecone from the nearby trees and his feet sting. When he runs to touch one of the trees, the bark on the trunk scrapes his palms and the smell of it is so potent it makes him sneeze. The cold air bites his nose and his cheeks and he shivers.

 

 

It's the best day of his life.

 

 

"Victor your shoes! Oh no, you'll get sick." Yuuri squeaks as he runs towards him, face full of distress, but Victor hardly registers it.

"Yuuri! Yuuri, this is wonderful!" he chirps, exhilarated. He runs towards a different tree, kneeling to touch the bushes and look at a trail of insects walking on a branch. There are so many new sights, new sensations, new smells, and even the air tastes different. The enclosure of the tower feels like such an absurd, distant thing, even though the stone wall stands not ten paces away from him.

How can the world be so wide? How much more is there waiting for him out there? His heart pounds against his ribcage in frenzy. His eyes sting, watery, overwhelmed with emotion.

Is this what being alive truly feels like?

 

* * *

 

Yuuri's breathless, his cheeks hot from chasing Victor all over the clearing, trying to get him to wear a pair of shoes. When did he even take them off, Yuuri's not sure.

Just as he's about to scold Victor for being careless, he finds him crouched near the ground, shoulders shimmying, eyes fixed on a red squirrel that scurries around the snow, probably searching for the place where it had buried its stash of nuts for the winter.

"Yuuri, look! It's a squirrel!" Victor whispers, pointing, and his eyes are so large (a little red in the corners), brimming with such excitement, one would think he's never seen a squirrel before.

It takes Yuuri a moment.

_Oh._

He catches himself before he can say something dismissive ' _it's just a squirrel, Victor'_ , and instead scoots closer to watch as the critter digs through the snow.

"We should keep our distance so we don't scare it away." He says softly, mouth close to Victor's ear, and Victor gasps, like he just said the most interesting thing in the world.

The squirrel seems to find its stash because it stuffs its cheeks with nuts and skips away before disappearing up the tree trunk.

"That was so incredible." Victor wheezes, and lets himself fall with his back on the snow. "Oh Yuuri, everything's so amazing!" he says, dreamily, and the breathiness of his voice makes Yuuri's cheeks turn red.

He's about to make another attempt at getting Victor to put his shoes back on, but something tugs on his sleeve and his back hits the wet, freezing cold of the snow moments later. He tremors and immediately attempts to sit up, but when he looks sideways and finds Victor's bright heart-shaped smile, he can't. It feels like he can see the world under a new light, just from how absolutely, unabashedly happy Victor looks simply from lying on the snow after watching a squirrel find its food. Yuuri grabs a handful of snow and brings it close to his eyes. It looks very white and feels very cold and it sparkles as it melts in his fingers.

When did he stop feeling amazed at the snow? At the trees and the winter wind? How much has he been taking for granted?

"Hey, do you think we'll see even more amazing things? Like… like rabbits! I've always wanted to touch one but Yakov says Makkachin would eat it! How rude, Makkachin wouldn't eat a cute fluffy rabbit. Well, I don't actually know if they're fluffy, but they look like it in the books. Oh! Flowers! I want to see flowers! Yakov's brought me some, but there are so many different ones in my books. And-and a bakery! What does freshly baked bread smell like? Yuuri, do you think we'll get to see those things?"

Yuuri's heart aches at the pure, sincere innocence of Victor's expectations. Even though he's a grown man, all he wants is to play in the snow and see the flowers and smell freshly-baked bread.

He sits up and offers Victor a hand. "We'll see all of that and much more, I promise." He says, and pulling Victor back on his feet. Victor looks at him with stars in his eyes and Yuuri's cheeks burn, his chest swelling with pride. No one has ever looked at him like that.

His determination redoubles. He'll show Victor the whole world, satiate even his most outlandish wishes and curiosities, no matter what it takes.

 

* * *

 

After struggling to convince Victor to put shoes on ("if you get sick we'll have to make a detour and won't make it to the festival on time"), they finally leave behind the clearing with the tower. Yuuri still feels anxious, even after the tower has gone out of sight, hidden by the thick trees. He can't help worrying what would happen if Victor's captor came back. What kind of person were they? Would Yuuri be strong enough to protect Victor? Would they be able to escape if needed?

It doesn't help that Victor keeps stopping every few steps to marvel at every single thing they run across, like an acorn, or a lizard or a dry leaf. And Yuuri's much too soft to get in the way of his discoveries and the enthusiasm with which he shares them with him or interrupting him as he coos at Makkachin, who looks equally surprised and elated by every new finding. Yuuri thinks it's quite a shame that it just happens to be winter, how much more lovely and exciting it would be for Victor to see the forest floor covered in flowers and mushrooms, animals hopping and skipping through the trees.

"Oh, Yuuri, look!"

Victor points at a bush with small white flowers that are almost invisible against the snow if not for the specks of pink on their petals.

"Yakov brought me some of these before but I'd never seen them just… _grow_." He pauses as his finger touches a petal. "Oh," he breathes. "He's going to be so mad that I left."

That's something else that confuses him. If this Yakov person has kept Victor prisoner all his life, why does Victor speak of him with that tone of wistful fondness?

"But it'll be okay, right? We'll be back within the week and he'll never know…"

Why is he so concerned about the feelings of a man that denied him of his dreams, possibly even separated him from his true family? Why does he _want_ to go back to that imprisonment?

"But I don't… I don't actually want to go back? How am I supposed to give all of this up again? No, no, no going back!"

Yuuri kneels next to him in silence, hesitating whether he should ask.

"Oh no, but that would be horrible, Yakov doesn't deserve it. He's always been good to us! Yuuri, what should I do?"

The cold air has made the skin on his lips dry and chapped, and Yuuri chews on it. He hesitates, his mind racing, trying to piece the puzzle together once again. A part of him knows speaking up is a bad idea, he should be more delicate about this, but at the same time…

"Victor I… Listen, I don't mean to upset you but…" but he can't even fathom the thought of Victor going back to his tower again, to see him deprived of all the things that have marveled him so in the short time they've been outside. "You shouldn't feel bad about leaving and never going back. What that man did… what he's doing, keeping you in that tower and never letting you go out… Someone that cares for you would never do that. It's a horrible, cruel thing. He's been manipulating you." He just doesn't understand _why_ … yet.

Victor's eyes widen. For the first time, he looks at Yuuri like he's afraid of him and he scoots a little further away. It makes Yuuri's chest tighten.

"What are you talking about, Yuuri? That's not… Yakov isn't a bad person, he's taken care of me all these years. I know he's a little gruff and scary, but in truth he's really kind, he's just tried to protect me all along!"

Yuuri sighs, his brows pinched. "Protecting you from what, Victor?" he tries, forcing himself to sound calm.

"I-I don't know." Victor stutters, avoiding Yuuri's gaze, "Bad people who will… hurt me and use me." His hands go to his hair and he starts twisting the silver locks in his fingers, anxiously.

It doesn't make any sense at all. Who would want to use Victor? What for? A grown man with 30 feet of hair that has never seen a squirrel or walked on the snow? It's so absurd Yuuri can't begin to wrap his head around it. Just what kind of nonsense has Victor been fed all these years?

"He's been lying to you, Victor! Why would anyone want to use you? Of course there are dangerous things and people, but haven't you seen it yourself? There are so many more wonderful things to experience out there! So much of the world you haven't seen! That man is the only one using you, making you scared so he could keep you as his prisoner! He's not—"

"Stop!" Victor's voice is shrill and cold "D-don't say that! I-I don't know, I—" he pants, pupils shrunk to tiny dots on his ocean blue eyes, staring at Yuuri like he's seeing a monster.

Cold sweat drips down Yuuri's face, panic bubbling under his skin. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He shouldn't have breached the subject, not like this. Not when it was obvious that Victor's situation and his relationship with his captor was much more complex than he'd initially imagined. His poor handling of the situation could make Victor run away from him, maybe even go back to his captivity. Even if Yuuri doesn't understand most of the details yet, that's something he knows for sure he doesn't want to happen.

"I'm- I'm sorry, Victor I didn't mean…" he tries, his voice wavering "please don't be afraid, I'm so sorry I jumped to conclusions like that."

His mind races, trying to appease Victor's anger. He really should've known better, bringing it up without having more information was such a foolish thing. He looks around, trying to school his breathing, and his eyes find the white flowers that initiated all of this. That gives him an idea.

"Let's... let's talk about this some other time, okay? We still have a few days before the festival. Regardless of what you decide to do afterwards, shouldn't you take this opportunity to get to see as many different things as you can? I… I wanted to show you something."

It perks Victor's interest enough to make him lean a little towards him rather than try to crawl away, and that's a start.

"I don't know if you've seen blue roses before…" he muses.

"Blue roses? No, never heard of that."

Odd. Victor seems to know about a lot of things, it's just the personal experience he lacks. He has all those books and has been able to name the trees and animals they encounter. How can he not know of the blue roses? The puzzle keeps getting more and more incomprehensible, and the more they talk, the more pieces it seems to be missing.

"They're this kingdom's special treasure." He explains, pushing aside his doubts for now "It's said the Moon loved them so much she blessed them so they'd never wither." He continues, feeling the atmosphere lighten as he rolls back his sleeve.

The brief respite ends immediately when he sees his bare arm. His heart sinks.

"Yuuri?"

It's in that moment that he remembers waking up to find his arm bare, and subsequently looking for his treasure all over Victor's tower. And then completely forgetting about it when he'd seen Victor dancing on the ice. He'd ended being so captivated and gotten so tangled up in the thought of rescuing Victor from his confinement he'd completely forgotten about his most prized possession. What a joke.

His eyes start to sting at the corners, cold creping up his spine. The voice from his memory that called him " _my little star_ ", that has been with him all these years, seems to be fading away and Yuuri desperately wants to stop them, to remember the face behind that voice, to find them, but now he's lost the only connection they had and with it, all hopes of ever reaching that warm smile again.

 

* * *

 

The evening is slightly chilly and Yakov's limbs feel heavy after the long walk. In his youth, he'd never imagined he'd spend his old age walking such long distances in the cold of winter because horses or carriages would be too conspicuous and he can't afford getting noticed. With increasing frequency, Yakov feels he's getting too old for all of this.

"I'm sorry, Master Feltsman, but gold?" Josef looks at him like he thinks he's lost his mind, "Unless you want to hang them on your wall, I wouldn't recommend going through with this. Not even the most skilled dancer would be able to use blades of solid gold."

Yakov thinks of Vitya and how he took to the ice since the first day, like he'd never known any other life. And he thinks, if there's anyone that could in fact dance with blades made of gold, that would undoubtedly be Vitya. Perhaps there's a small part of himself that's still quite foolish in spite of his age.

"I'm not asking you to forge them out of actual gold, you numbskull. Just make them look like it." He grunts. "You crafted the Prince's crown with live roses and liquid gold, have your skills gone so rusty? Should I find me a younger, more daring smith?"

Josef crosses his arms over his chest and gives hima a leveled look. "These days, you'd be hard pressed to find one willing to mold _any_ blades, even for you, Master Feltsman. With the prohibition going stricter and all those dancers somehow slipping away from the royal guard, rumor has it they will soon start hunting down anyone who could be giving them supplies. If no one's making blades, no one will be winter dancing, you know?"

Yakov hums. Things are getting needlessly more complicated by the day. He's been too patient.

"And anyway, why do you want these golden blades? I just made you a new pair in spring, they should still be good until the snow melts."

"None of your business."

"I feel like I should have the right to know, though? I'm putting myself at risk here, and for an incredibly outlandish request. I've turned a blind eye and never asked why you've spent nearly two decades having me make blades after blades after blades for increasingly bigger feet. Is there some secret prodigy you've been nurturing all this time?"

Readjusting his hat over his head, Yakov huffs. He thinks of Vitya dancing and how, in a different life, under different circumstances, he could be surprising the whole world over. "Something like that." He concedes. He's already said more than he should've.

Josef eyes him inquisitively "I think I have an idea… something that I could make work, maybe…" he offers, pushing his glasses up his nose, "It'll take a few days, and it won't be cheap…" his lips tilt a little. He already knows Yakov won't deny whatever price he wants to give him. "Oh, and I'll need the old blades to have the right measurements."

Yakov curses under his breath. He didn't even think of bringing Vitya's old blades. Their umpteenth argument about Vitya's growing wish to explore the outside world had left him too frazzled. Something was off with Vitya and Yakov hasn't been able to shake off the uneasiness since he left the tower.

"I'm sorry, I forgot about them. I'll head back right away and bring them over to you tomorrow." Given the distance and how tired he is, it would be more reasonable to spend the night at an inn and leave for the tower early morning, expecting he might make it back here by the following morning. But he hopes that getting the blades even a minute earlier will make it so he can get back to Vitya sooner. In spite of Vitya's reassuring (but not genuine at all, the fool still thought Yakov fell for that) smile and his repeated emphasis on how he'd be alright, there was something unsettling about the whole thing, and that feeling of dread has been growing steadily during the day. He definitely needs to get back as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

The sky has started changing colors, but Victor can hardly see it through the thick treetops. It's still unusual to see the world from down below, a little disquieting even. A few hours have passed since they left the tower and the air has been gradually getting colder around them. Most birds seem to have flown up to their nests, and they haven't encountered any animals in a while –probably having already gone to hide in their burrows-. But most importantly, Yuuri has hardly spoken since their little argument about Yakov, hasn't even looked at him much, gaze fixed on the snowy ground, and that has soured Victor's mood considerably

He still isn't sure of how he feels about their fight. He hadn't expected Yuuri to lash out like that. It was like a repeat of Yakov yelling at him this morning before he even tried to meet Yuuri. He knows two people in the whole world and they both energically want to make him believe the other is bad and dangerous, and he's tired of it. Victor isn't a child. He may not know a lot about the world, but he knows Yakov has never meant to hurt him and that he can trust Yuuri and he's old enough to make those decisions for himself. Heck, for all he knows, Yuuri might be younger than him.

"Yuuri? How old are you?" he asks spontaneously.

At last, Yuuri looks up at him, his expression neutral.

"Twenty-four."

Victor is about to note with satisfaction how Yuuri's younger and should not be trying to tell him what to do when he notices the faint redness at the corners of Yuuri's eyes. He feels a squeeze in his chest.

"Yuuri, what's wrong?"

Yuuri blinks, appearing confused. "N-nothing, I'm fine. Sorry, I've been a little bit quiet."

Another thing he's tired of is people lying to him and thinking he won't notice. He frowns. "You've been crying."

Gasping softly, Yuuri touches his cheeks "Oh, this?" he rubs his face harshly, "I-it's nothing just –just the cold."

Yuuri should definitely meet Yakov. They're both equally terrible liars.

"Please don't lie to me. I know Yakov means well but he's been lying to me about so many things all my life and I'm sick of it. I can't stand any more lies."

That seems to flip a switch in Yuuri, because he stops rubbing his face and stands still, looking up to meet Victor's eyes. He still hesitates momentarily, but then he takes a short glance down –at what, Victor doesn't know- and tugs on his own sleeve.

"I lost something." he says at last, after a moment of pregnant silence "It was… it was very important to me and I don't think… that I'll find it again." His voice goes thin at the end and Victor doesn't miss the lone tear slipping down his rosey cheek. "I'm sorry, you're finally getting to experience everything out here and I'm ruining that with my brooding. You probably would've been better off if the one who found you had been -"

Victor stops dead on his tracks and turns around to stand in front of Yuuri, grab him by the shoulders, and crane his neck down a little to meet his eyes. He wipes the one tear away. "Yuuri, no." He knows _, he knows_ deep in his bones that the only reason today has been so perfect it's because it was Yuuri who found him. He doesn't know anyone else, but he already feels it, that had it been any other person stumbling through his window, he might not have even left the tower. "Being found by Yuuri was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me." He states firmly, hoping Yuuri knows he means it and not knowing any other words to convey how sure he is about this. Then he remembers back in the tower, when Yuuri had asked if he'd seen a bracelet. Could that be the item he's lost? Had he stopped searching for it just to heed Victor's plea? Guilt curls in his gut. "I'm sorry you lost your important thing. We could go back, I can help you look for it. Maybe it's still in the tower! We could—"

Yuuri interrupts him shaking his head. "No, we're not going back to the tower. We have a lot of ground to cover still and it's already getting dark, we need to find a place to camp." He smiles a shaky smile and pushes Victor's hands away from his shoulders. "It was just an old thing. Maybe it was time I stopped clinging to the past." His gaze is warm, even though his tone betrays his sadness. "I already promised I'd take you to see the lantern festival, and I intend to keep that promise at all costs." he adds emphatically. "But thank you… for offering. And I… I promise I won't lie to you again."

He doesn't know how to respond to all that, so he just nods, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Yuuri can be so enigmatic. At times he acts strong and determined and so dependable Victor feels he could trust him with his entire life, but at times he looks so scared, so hurt, so fragile all Victor wants is to hold him close and make him feel safe. And sometimes, like just now, he's a little bit of both and Victor isn't sure of how he feels or how he should react to that. He finds himself worried he might do or say something that will drive Yuuri away and simultaneously excited to untangle the mystery that is Yuuri. He has so much to look forward to for the next few days.

They keep walking quietly. The scenery hasn't changed much since they got into the forest, but it's so different to the room he's been living in all these years, he continues to bask in it, wishing to store all these smells, feelings, colors in his mind forever, so he can come back to them even if Yakov never lets him go outside again. Makkachin continues to be completely elated by everything and anything. He's chased at least three squirrels and dug many holes in the snow. Occassionally he brings over a large branch and Victor will throw it a couple of times, until Makkachin gets distracted by a bird and leaves it forgotten. This time, Makkachin brings the branch over to Yuuri, who looks briefly surprised but is unexpectedly quick to get into the game, like he's played it before. He laughs as he watches Makkachin chase after the branch and coos when he brings it back. The scene is terribly endearing.

"You've had him for a long time?" Yuuri asks, making him regain focus.

"Yes! Yakov brought him as a gift for my birthday! It was actually—" he touches his pocket where he keeps the paper with the poodle drawing, but stops himself remembering Yuuri just lost something he cherished dearly. It would be insensitive to be showing off his own treasure. "He's been a good companion." He says instead. "He likes you. Do you like dogs too?"

Yuuri grins "I love poodles." And there it is again, that fragility, that shakiness in the corners of his smile that speaks of there being so much more behind that short admission, something he can't begin to grasp just yet.

It makes Victor's chest hurt.

"Well, you can play with Makkachin all you want." He beams. "I'm sure he appreciates having more people to throw him things, I get tired too easily."

Makkachin woofs in agreement and Yuuri laughs. "I'll take you up on that then." He says, ruffling Makkachin's floppy ears. "But I don't think we can play for much longer, we need to find a place to sleep and set up a fire before it gets completely dark."

That piques Victor's curiosity. "How do we do that? Is there a house or something around here?"

To his surprise, Yuuri laughs. "No, it doesn't look like we're close to any village. I'm afraid we'll have to build something ourselves. It's not ideal with this weather, but don't worry, I've done it before."

Victor has learned to do a lot of things by himself –he had to keep himself entertained during his boring daily life- but he's never _built_ anything. It's another exciting new experience.

"Okay! I want to help too! Tell me what you need!" he chirps cheerily.

Yuuri hums. "Well, first of all we need to find an area that's not covered in snow or we won't be able to make fire. And we need large tree leaves and a dozen thick branches. I've gathered a few of those already," he shows the heap of wood he's carrying in his arms, "but we need more to build a decent shelter. And dry wood for the fire"

"Understood!"

They search in comfortable silence for a short while. Victor finds a heap of trees that are so thick, no snow has reached the ground, and he preens when Yuuri congratulates him on the discovery.

"Just in time, we won't be able to see anything without fire really soon."

Finding dry firewood proves a bigger challenge because even in their snow-less spot, most twigs and branches have gathered some humidity from the air. They barely get enough to start a very small fire and keep a stack closeby, which Yuuri explains will help keep the flames alive during the night. Victor's seen fire before, in candles and the fireplace, but this raw, wild fire Yuuri has created has a different, almost hypnotic glow to it.

The shelter itself isn't as complex as Victor imagined. Just a branch leaning on a thick tree, with more branches leaning on the first and the big leaves laid on top like a roof. It looks a little small, but they were able to build it quickly and Yuuri says it will keep the cold away, and that's what's important.

"It's lucky you had food in the tower so we don't have to be searching for berries now." Yuuri says cheerily as he cooks a quail over the fire. He looks like he really is used to doing this kind of things, which makes Victor wonder what kind of lifestyle he has. As they eat, he also explains that they should be careful with their rations but that he expects they'll find a village where they can get more provisions tomorrow or the day after at latest, so they won't have to starve themselves.

Victor takes the opportunity and the light, pleasant mood of their meal to scoot closer and sit by Yuuri's side.

"So, why don't we use this chance to get to know each other?" he asks, voice dipping an octave lower, heart thrumming with anticipation.

Yuuri's eyes widen, his cheeks dusted light pink. "Eh?"

"I want to know everything about you, Yuuri. What kind of ice have you danced on? What are your favorite things about the capital? Is there…" he pauses gathering his courage, mesmerized by the dancing glow of the fire in Yuuri's large eyes "any lady that has garnered your affections?" He's seen it so many times in his books, tales of wandering heroes who have captured the heart of a pure and beautiful lady, who shall forever await the return of her beloved. He's not sure of why he wants to know this of all things, but the question's out there now. He scoots even closer and daringly touches Yuuri's chin with his fingers so their eyes will meet. "Since we'll be traveling together, I think we should try to build more trust in our relationship"

All of a sudden, Yuuri's face bursts into color, like he's burning underneath his skin, and he pulls away from Victor in a flash, his arms flailing, mouth opening and closing repeatedly.

"Why are you running away?" Victor asks, confused.

The response he gets isn't satisfying at all. "I-i-it's late and we have a long day tomorrow, you should go to sleep."

Victor cocks his head, the phrasing not only frustrating in its dodging of his questions, but also – "Don't you mean _we_ should get to sleep?"

That seems to rope Yuuri back to his more dependable, calm demeanor. "Oh, I'll be keeping guard, I need to stay awak so I can scare away any dangerous animal or wake you up if something happens and we need to run."

Still, Victor isn't pleased by the answer. "That's not good, when do _you_ get to sleep?"

"Hmmm, I'll wake you up when I'm tired so we can trade places?"

His brows scrunch in a frown. By the lightness of his tone and what little he's learned about him today, he has a feeling Yuuri has no actual intention of waking him up before they depart tomorrow morning.

"I'm not sleepy yet." He counters stubbornly. It's not a lie, he's still so thrilled about everything that has happened today he couldn't possibly bring himself to sleep.

"Victor please, at least get in the shelter. I'll be very upset if I built it for nothing."

Although he is still suspicious of Yuuri's intentions in regards of taking equal guarding times, he complies with the request for now, fumbling a bit with his hair that is significantly heavier than usual with all the water it's absorbed from getting dragged through the snow all day long. It takes him a couple of minutes to curl it up in a corner where it won't get in the way, and then he lies down on the cold ground. It's a very different surface from his fluffy and soft bed, but it has a faint, fresh smell that is new and pleasant enough to compensate. And when Makkachin waddles inside and lies next to him where Victor can hug him for warmth, it's almost as comfortable as home.

Through an opening between the leaves he can see Yuuri sitting close to the shelter, poking the fire with a stick.

"Isn't it a big hassle? With your hair, I mean." Yuuri asks out of the blue, eyes still trained on the fire.

Under normal circumstances, Victor would get sensitive talking about his hair (the thought of Yakov's bald spot haunts him), but because this is Yuuri and he wants to keep talking, he answers truthfully. "A bit." He concedes. "But I normally don't mind too much. Brushing it takes a long time, but I've always had it to spare, it's not like I was very busy in the tower." He explains with a shrug.

Yuuri just mutters a soft "Oh." and feeds a twig to the fire, which sparks brighter for an instant.

After laying there in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Victor grows restless again. "Yuuri, tell me a story."

Maybe he sounds a little childish, but the crackling of the fire reminds him of kneeling by Yakov's knees and hearing tales of dragons and princesses and treasures. He wonders if it'll feel as magical as it used to, now that he's embarked in his own adventure.

"A story?"

He hums, snuggling closer to Makkachin. "Like… you said the festival was for the Lost Prince. What is that?"

Unexpectedly, Yuuri's expression brightens. "Oh! The Lost Prince! Yes, yes, I can definitely tell you that one." He beams, scooting closer to the opening through which Victor watches him. "My Mom used to tell me that story every night before I went to sleep, it's my favorite."

Victor smiles. He likes the idea of sharing things that are precious to Yuuri.

With an excited lilt in his voice, Yuuri tells him of the queen who drank the potion made of the Moon's Rose silver petals, and the Prince with Moonlight hair and eyes like Stars, and how beloved he was, how beautifully he danced, how he shone so bright the Moon would hide her face on his birthday. He tells him of the King and Queen's tragic demise and how the Prince disappeared and no one was ever able to find him again, how devastated the people were. And he tells him of the beautiful lantern festival, of the people who send silver fires to the sky every year in hopes their Lost Prince will see them and find his way back home.

 _So the lights were never mine,_ Victor thinks, and it takes a moment for the thought to settle in.

It's disappointing, a little painful even. All his life he's been so convinced that those lights were calling for him, giving him comfort and hope and a dream to chase for all these years, but it turns out it was just his delusion. He feels like crying a little. Instead, not wanting Yuuri to realize he has upset him, he curls into himself, burying his nose in Makkachin's fluffy fur, and he lets his eyelids fall closed, the exhaustion of the day finally taking over him.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri resists the sunlight that stubbornly insists on rousing him with all his might. He's so warm and comfortable like this, the prospect of opening his eyes absolutely unthinkable. The blankets around him and the pillow under him are so much nicer than the cold, moist dirt he'd been sitting on all night. Not as nice as the perfect, fluffy bed in Victor's tower, which he currently sourly regrets ever leaving, but these have a soft, nostalgic feeling to them that makes him want to sink further and further into them forever. And he's so overdue a proper rest after that hangover and keeping guard all night because he could not have possibly asked Victor to do it even once and—

He sits up on the bed like he's been lit on fire.

 

 

_Victor._

 

 

His eyes sting a little with the sudden eruption of light, and he blindly, out of pure habit, pats on the bedside table to find… yes, his glasses are right there. He perches them on his nose and the world finally stops looking like a vaguely familiar blur.

 

 

 

 

He's in his room.

 

 

 

 

His childhood bedroom with the old rice paper walls covered in paintings of the Lost Prince that he's gathered from all around the kingdom. Sitting on his tiny bed where he used to sleep with Vicchan wrapped in his arms, with the pillow his Mom always fluffed up before she started telling him the story of the Lost Prince so he would fall asleep.

He's home, in his room, wearing a set of inn robes.

Yuuri looks up at the low ceiling, which has also been plastered with paintings ever since he ran out of wall space. The one right on top of him is one of his favorites: it shows a big frozen lake, a dark night sky and the Prince's back; his Moonlight hair spread like wings as he dances on the ice, which reflects the ethereal glow of the Prince's figure. He'd gotten it from a street artist the last time he'd gone to the lantern festival, the year before Vicchan died.

 

 

And Victor?

 

 

Yuuri thinks of the whirlwind of confusing memories, of a beautiful man who winter danced like he was made of ice, trapped in a tower; of a heart-shaped smile and hair so long he could jump off a 30 foot tower with it, of feeling like he was strong and important to someone, of laughter and looking at snow as if it was the most magical thing to ever exist, of chasing the Moon and dancing with the Lost Prince.

 

 

_Oh._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_It was all a dream_

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say dun dun duuun but I feel I'm too old for that
> 
> Uhhhhh I've never in my life touched snow so I'm making it all up? How does snow work why did I decide to give this a winter setting, the only remarkable thing about winter in the tropics is the sky is kinda permagrey. But I did look up basic survival procedures for when stuck in a snowy forest, namely for what kind of shelter to build. During editing I was surprised by how coherent this whole thing turned out considering I wrote a good portion of it while being 95% asleep
> 
> Also all this aggrandizement of the great outdoors is kinda hilarious coming from "three steps away from becoming a hikkikomori" aka me.
> 
> As always I'll be awaiting with baited breath to hear your thoughts on this chapter. I really enjoyed writing the scene of Victor in the snow. I hope you guys enjoyed it too.
> 
> If you enjoy my writing and want to know more about it/send me some love, you can hmu @ [my tumblr](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com). Comments are always the most encouraging kind of support! ~~if you're wondering why you're seeing this copy-pasted everywhere it's because I had to edit shit out due to a good samaritan report hahahaha~~


	7. They strayed off the path once or twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should feel relieved. There is no gorgeous man imprisoned in a tower and Yuuri has no obligation of risking his freedom –maybe even his life- to bring him to the capital. And yet, instead of liberated, he feels… hollowly disappointed.

A freezing chill shoots up Yakov's spine. He stares in horror at the crushed wooden platform lying under a layer of snow at the foot of the tower.

"Vitya!" He yells at the top of his lungs, heart thundering with panic. "VITYA!"

After a minute of getting no response he rushes to the southern face of the tower and digs through the loose rocks and debris that hide a wooden door. He bursts the door open and rushes up the long flight of stairs. He has to stop several times, his old bones and joints protesting in pain, his chest burning. By the time he reaches the top of the stairs and opens the trap door to the edge of the ice room, he's completely breathless, barely hanging onto consciousness.

"Vitya." He calls weakly, desperately looking around for any signs of movement, but the room is eerily quiet. He all but crawls up the steps to the main floor to find the same terrifying silence. There's evidence of things being moved around, but that's not unusual, Victor always makes a mess after playing with Makkachin. He calls for Vitya again and again, getting no response, panic building in his gut. Did Vitya escape? He never had a contingency plan, not for this. He's worked so hard all these years drilling the fear of a dangerous outdoors into that boy's head; was it all for naught?

He drags himself up the last flight of stairs to Vitya's room and finds the bed undone, clothes lying crumpled over the messy bedsheets. There's also a few fruits that Vitya –no matter how irresponsible- wouldn't have left to rot on the floor, and signs of disorder beyond Makkachin's usual playing routine. And once again, the room is empty and silent.

Vitya isn't here.

"Makkachin!" he calls, an even more horrifying thought creeping up his chest. Even if Victor could theoretically climb down the tower using his own hair, there is no way he could bring Makkachin down with him. He thinks of the wooden platform that lied destroyed outside the tower, but that too, would have been impossible if he had been alone.

What originally looked like a careless mess suddenly becomes evident signs of struggle.

Vitya didn't escape. He was taken.

In a frenzy, Yakov tears the place upside down, searching for a hint, anything that will tell him what happened. Who might have arrived here, how did they know, where have they taken Vitya?

The first light of dawn shines through the open window and something glints under the bed, briefly blinding him. Ignoring the protests of his back, knees and hips, he kneels down and looks under the wooden frame of the exquisitely carved bed. His eyes immediately find an object that he doesn't recognize at first and he pulls it out to get a better look.

When daylight shines upon the golden surface, morning dew kissing live blue petals, Yakov's breath hitches.

This is the worst possible scenario.

 

* * *

 

Sunrays filter through his window, drawing warm streaks of light over Yuuri's fingers.

Of course it was a dream. How could it have possibly been real? Yuuri is almost mad at himself for believing, even for a split second, that such an outlandish thing could actually happen. The most beautiful winter dancer in the world, who glided on the ice like his body was pure magic, with hair so long you never saw where it ended, trapped in an abandoned tower in the middle of the forest that no one had ever heard of. Of course it sounded like something straight out of a fairytale: that's all it was. (And he also happened to love poodles and have the most beautiful smile? To be everything Yuuri could've ever wanted? He's an idiot.). He'll have to give Chris a word or two about his questionable alcoholic tastes and their hallucinogenic properties.

He stays seated on the bed, fingers curling and uncurling atop the bedsheets. It's odd. He should feel relieved. There is no gorgeous man imprisoned in a tower and Yuuri has no obligation of risking his freedom –maybe even his life- to bring him to the capital. He doesn't exist. Yuuri can continue with his life as normal.

And yet, instead of liberated, he feels… hollowly disappointed. He touches his chest lightly and realizes with astonishment that a small part of him had been actually…  _excited_. That he had been looking forward to having this adventure with beautiful, ethereal Victor. To talk to him and watch him prance on the snow and how he marveled at everything and anything, how he saw the world like it was a miracle. He'd been thrilled just to think of how Victor would smile when he finally realized his dream of seeing the lanterns, and now he'll never know.

But Victor doesn't exist, so dwelling on it is pointless. Yuuri's never been the adventurous type anyway, perhaps his dream-self had just embellished what would otherwise be a terrifying commitment.

With a firm shake of his head, he gets up from the bed and walks down the stairs to the main floor, where he expects to find his mother and father already busy tending to their traveling patrons. His family's home is also a traditional inn for voyagers, with the unique feature of hosting a natural hot spring pool that is particularly popular during the winter. With tax increases and stricter rulings on traveling, the number of visitors has decreased significantly over the last few years, but the inn remains relatively busy.

Just as he expected, the dining room is bustling with customers, most of them locals who visit regularly, drawn in by his mother's outstanding cooking skills. It is mostly thanks to that crowd that the inn stays afloat in spite of the growing financial difficulties.

"Oh, Yuuri! You're finally up!" his mother calls, smiling widely. She skips through the crowded room, her arms full with a tray of empty plates, and bounces on her feet when she reaches him. "I'm so glad you're doing well, we've missed you dearly." She says, cocking her head affectionately.

Yuuri can't help the slight guilt for his prolonged absence, but the sight of his mother immediately blankets him in the warmth and comfort of finally finding himself home. "I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to be gone for so long." There are a lot of things he needs to do now, namely find out what happened with Chris and Phichit, so he knows he won't be able to stay for long. He's also a wanted fugitive now and the last thing he wishes is to lure the royal guard here and cause his family more problems than he already has. But he can allow himself a short respite, even if it's just so he can enjoy his mother's soothing cares that hopefully will replace the dull disappointment still lurking in his chest.

Expectedly, she smiles, probably understanding a lot more than Yuuri himself does. "That's alright, you're home now. Take it easy, I'll make katsudon for lunch." She balances the tray on one hand to pat his cheek softly. "Oh, you should go greet Vicchan." She adds, pointing with her head in the direction of the back of the inn.

He swallows around the knot in his throat and nods, eyes already watery. She pats his cheek once more and then skids around him to get back working. Even though he's now much taller than her, Yuuri feels like a child again, defenseless on his own but safe under his mother's protection.

As he makes his way to the back as surreptitiously as possible, he can't avoid a few regulars who greet him with enthusiastic smiles. His father meets him outside the kitchen and jokes about how he's grown to resemble his mother. It's almost like he never left.

At last, he reaches a quieter room, away from the noise and chatter of the main floor, part of the family's private quarters. There's a modest altar there with wooden sticks bearing the names of his ancestors; his grandparents whom he never met, one of his father's brothers who didn't survive a particularly cold winter over forty years ago, others, older ones, the carvings faded with time, barely a few characters visible. And near the front, off to the right there is a new one and it has a short, simple name carved in scarce strokes:  _Vicchan_. Yuuri bites his lower lip and swallows back the tears as he lights up a stick of incense and kneels in front of the altar.

"I'm home, Vicchan. I'm sorry I wasn't here to take care of you." He whispers, heart heavy as he presses his palms together and mumbles a short prayer, watching the incense burn, the nostalgic scent wafting over the quiet of the room. For a moment, he thinks he hears a woof in the distance, and it startles him. He knows none of the houses in the vicinity have any dogs. He looks up at the altar and the wooden plaque with Vicchan's name, but shakes his head. His mind seems to be indulging in too much wishful thinking today.

"Good, you're up."

Yuuri lifts his head from the ground to the voice calling at him. "Mari-neesan." He greets airily, hurrying to wipe his tears away.

"Be more careful next time, kiddo. You could've frozen to death out there." She says, her tone a little softer than usual, though still with that characteristic brashness. There's an unspoken 'we were worried about you' floating in the incense-clad air, and Yuuri's okay leaving it that way. He and Mari have always understood each other better in the silence.

He gets up from the floor and dusts off his knees. "I guess I can help while I'm around?" he offers and by the look she gives him, he can tell she already knows he's not staying long.

She doesn't say anything and just nods, pointing at a stack of fiber bags, most likely carrying kitchen supplies. She picks two of them up effortlessly, and Yuuri follows up, but the moment he lifts the bags from the ground, he feels a biting sting on both palms, so sharp he lets go of his load with a cry.

Surprised, he turns his palms over to inspect them. They're full of scratches and blisters, bloodied cuts and barely dried crusts of blood. Just like…

 

 

Just like he'd climbed up a 30 foot tower barehanded.

 

 

His heart jumps.

 

 

He shakes his head vehemently. Nonsense. Pure nonsense. He likely hurt his hands while he was wandering the forest drunk off his mind. This doesn't mean anything and he hates that little spark of hope that had briefly made him feel otherwise. He needs to let go of that crazy dream. There are important things he needs to take care of in real life instead of concerning himself with non-existent beautiful men. It's not even the first time he dreams of meeting a perfect man so it makes no sense that his mind is clinging to this one so stubbornly. He'll forget about him. Dreams tend to fade from memory over the course of the day. Probably by lunchtime he won't even remember Victor's beautiful heart-shaped smile.

 

 

The thought is sadder than it is comforting.

 

* * *

 

After he's done painstakingly helping his sister carry the bags to the kitchen, he decides he's long overdue a soak at the onsen. He hasn't been home in years and has missed it dearly. With the tormented confusion still swirling in his mind and the growing heartache every time he feels the sting in his palms, he decides he deserves to relax and take his mind off everything. Off Victor, specifically. Because he really needs to stop thinking of him and his name or he's never going to forget him. Forget  _it_. The dream. Because Vict—the dream guy is just that, a dream. Dreams don't have names. Dreams aren't real.

He tells his sister he's going to the baths and leaves before she decides to saddle him with another obligation. The washing room is relatively empty, just two other men sitting on stools and rinsing their bodies off any dirt from the outside with wooden buckets and washcloths. He takes off the inn robes he was still wearing and places his glasses on top of the folded clothes, absentmindedly. Having grown up at the inn, he has no real reservations in regards to disrobing around strangers. They won't mind his presence and he won't mind theirs. He's used to it.

Through the window, he notices a light snow has begun to fall and decides to use the outer bath to enjoy the light early winter chill in the comfort of the hot water. He holds a cloth under his navel for modesty and pushes past the curtain into the familiar secluded garden, his skin already tingling with the warm vapors.

To his surprise, the bath is not empty. A man sits at the far back, leaning against the wall. As his eyes grow accustomed to the fog, he starts making out the shape of him, then the details of his face.

 

 

His heart stutters.

 

 

Broad shoulders, a sharp jaw, wintery pale skin flushed by the heat.

 

 

Starlight eyes.

 

 

Liquid Moonlight floats over the steaming water.

 

 

Yuuri didn't realize when he stopped breathing until his chest becomes tight with heartache and longing.

 

 

His eyes sting.

 

 

Dreams shouldn't have names and yet—

 

 

"Victor?"

 

* * *

 

Victor has long lost track of time since he stepped into the steaming hot pool. This is, bar none, the most pleasant experience of his entire life. The heat of the water relaxes his sore muscles and makes his body warm all the way down to his core in a way not even the thickest, fluffiest woolen bedsheet could. The scenery of the outdoor bath is also beautifully quiet, soft snowflakes melting in the air with the vapor. Maybe he'll ask Yakov to build him one of these when he goes back…  _if_  he goes back…  _will_  he go back? His thoughts are getting muddled by the lovely relief and warmth, and his head feels a little light.

From the edge of consciousness, he notices a person pushing past the curtain from the indoor bath. They're not the first to do so, but everyone else so far has rushed back inside as soon as they see him, although Victor doesn't know why. He'd been excited about meeting new people and seeing if any of them were as interesting as Yuuri, but no one seems to want to talk to him. It's a little frustrating.

This newly arrived person, whose figure Victor can hardly make out through the fog of his own mind and the thick steam of the bath, doesn't immediately cower away and that's progress. He's about to stand up and greet the newcomer when their figure goes completely still and takes a sharp inhale.

"Victor?"

His eyes widen as the fog clears and he recognizes the figure at the edge of the pool.

"Yuuri!" he squeals, elated. He was starting to get bored, unable to talk to anyone and without Yuuri's company. He stands from the water and reaches out to Yuuri, hoping to share the wonders of this magnificent bath with his travel companion, who squeaks and flinches away, fumbling with the cloth that covers his crotch. When Victor steps forward to approach him, he also notices Yuuri's eyes are glistening at the corners, brows slightly furrowed. "Yuuri? Are you—" he starts, concerned, but as he gets even closer and the fog stops obstructing his vision, he finds himself face to face with Yuuri's body. Yuuri's completely naked body.

Needless to say, Victor hasn't had a lot of contact with naked humans. He's seen anatomy diagrams, Yakov has taught him about the body and its illnesses, about Hypocrates and the four temperaments, where the bile comes from, how to treat sanguineal afflictions, how to identify the pox, how his muscles make him dance, how his bones protect his heart and lungs and liver, how his skin is his point of contact with the world. He's looked at himself in the mirror after a bath, or during a sweltering summer day, examined the ridges of his chest, the goosebumps on his limbs, observed how his joints flex, how his chest rises and falls when he breathes. He's traced his figure with his fingers, grown accustomed to his own shapes. But it's never been something he's felt terribly curious about, and once he stopped growing and changing, there was little to keep his attention in the activity. In general, being so thoroughly acquainted with his own body, he'd figured there'd be little of interest to be found in anyone else's.

And yet Yuuri…

Yuuri's body has shapes and figures and patterns Victor has never seen before. He has sharp angles in his collarbones, his shoulders, his chest, his hips and his calves. But he also has soft, plush curves in his stomach and waist, his thighs, what little Victor can see of his pert behind. He looks like a Greek god carved in marble, too perfect to be human, yet too alive to be made of cold stone. His skin isn't smooth, it's rather covered with a variety of faint marks, discolored streaks outlining the curvaceous areas, scars on his knees and hips. A rosey flush blooms underneath the lightly sunkissed color of his supple, tender flesh. A bead of sweat drips down the plains of his chest, following every edge and crook and line, glistening with the tenuous sunlight. Victor licks his lips, an urgent curiosity, an ardent yearning to touch searing under his skin, burning him from the inside.

The temperature escalates quickly, his blood boiling in his veins, his mind clouded with hea. Fire starts trickling down his belly and between his thighs in a way it never has before and he finds himself confused at his body's reaction. He knows, of course, of the desires of the flesh and how they manifest in a man's body. He's read the classics after all, knows of the passions of Zeus, of Aphrodite, of the insatiable satires and the wistful nymphs, and even convinced Yakov to get him a few most scandalous stories to read (for educational purposes only), he's just never experienced any of them before.

Not until now, at least.

Observing Yuuri's nude figure stirs something new within him, something ferocious and incontrollable. It's not like this is the first time he sees Yuuri and appreciates the aesthetics of his body –that of a winter dancer, shaped to glide on the ice like music incarnate-, the artistry of his face, the gems of his eyes. But this is different. This feeling goes beyond want and becomes a  _need_. He leans forward, stretching his fingers, desperate to feel the texture of Yuuri's skin, to contour his body with his fingertips, to learn of every curve, every mark, every edge, until it is so deeply entrenched in his memory he can draw Yuuri's silhouette by heart, and maybe, maybe then will he find satisfaction for this mounting, insufferable hunger.

"Victor! Victor are you okay? How long have you been in there?"

Yuuri's shrill yelp breaks through the cloud of his heated contemplations and he feels himself yanked out of the hot bath into the cold of winter that immediately lowers the temperature of his body and his thoughts.

"Uh… a while?" he manages to respond, shivering as Yuuri quickly hands him a cloth to cover himself and pulls him back inside.

They reach a heap of clothes and Yuuri is quick to drape a robe over his shoulders. "You're not supposed to stay in there for hours, it'll make you sick." He admonishes, concern tainting his warm voice, and it is only then that Victor finally reacts.

"I-I already have my own." He says, unlatching the robe from his body and thrusting it on Yuuri's chest. "Your—parents gave me one." He pauses, noticing how Yuuri's still nude and how the world still shakes under his feet because of it. "They were very kind."

Yuuri arches his brows. "Oh." He finally puts the robe on, covering his life-shattering body which allows Victor to regain some semblance of composure, and a breath he didn't know he'd lost. "Where is it? You should get dressed soon or the change of temperature will be bad for your body. And then we'll have to figure out how to dry your hair."

Victor points at the stool where he left his borrowed robe, his body still feeling light. Yuuri pushes his shoulders lightly to make him sit down and disappears from his field of vision, presumably to fetch the item because soon he's back and Victor has been wrapped in fabric.

"Drink this, it'll stabilize your body temperature." Yuuri says, and a small glass bottle with a white liquid appears in front of his eyes. Victor grabs it and takes a short sip. It's cool and tastes like milk and oranges.

"Yuuri." He says, looking up, and his heart flutters when he finds Yuuri's soft brown eyes, still a little red at the corners, brighter and bigger than he's ever seen them. "Thank you." He's not sure of why he's thanking him, but he also can't think of anything else to encompass the whirlwind of emotions and sensations of the last few minutes, so he settles with that.

To his surprise, Yuuri's cheeks gain a pretty pink color, and he smiles the sweetest smile as he shakes his head and hums lightly. "Thank  _you_ , Victor."

Victor doesn't know what he's being thanked for, but all he can think of is Yuuri's lingering touch as he pushes a lock of silver hair behind Victor's ear and the tingles his fingers leave behind on his skin.

 

* * *

 

It's been a long time since he took a ride on horseback, but now is not the time for discretion. Even if he's not found, if he can't recover Vitya, all will be lost. His hips and thighs hurt, as does his back. He's only now realizing how much he's been relying on Vitya's healing song. He's certainly too old for this.

As he rides through the forest, he notices a concerning increase of 'Wanted' posters pinned to the tree trunks. Against his better judgment, he stops and picks a handful of them up, passingly recognizing a few of the faces. He has seen them perform. All are winter dancers. All talented to various degrees –none as much as Vitya, but none so bad that they deserved to have a price on their heads. The prohibition has gotten this severe.

There are three he recalls seeing dancing in the nearest villages. A boy with dark skin and a youthful expression, a young man with dark hair, a lean body but intense eyes and the third one, close to Vitya's age, with a strong, imposing build. The thought of these talented young men being punished for their art saddens him. Unsure of what takes over him, he saves the posters in his robes and digs at the horse's sides. He has no time to lose.

 

* * *

 

He still feels in a daze whilst helping Yuuri squeeze water off his hair to barely acceptable success and being dragged to a private dining room, away from the bustle of the customers. As they pass by the main entrance, he hears someone calling "Oh, good, I was just about to tell you to go check on your friend; he's been in the bath since the morning." Probably Yuuri's mother, who was overly kind to him since the moment he was dragged through the door of the inn, barely a couple of hours before dawn last night.

He's pulled out of his thoughts by the most delicious smell that has ever graced his nose. He can tell it's meat, but it's richer and thicker than anything he's ever smelled before.

"This is katsudon, our specialty!" Yuuri's mom chirps with a pleasant smile, placing a large bowl of food in front of him. He can see the glistening egg atop a crusty centerpiece and surrounded by white rice. He's never seen food served like this, not even in his books, and that makes him quite excited.

"It looks amazing!" he says, looking up at Yuuri, who seems pleased by his assessment, while his mother bounces happily out of the room. In moments he's scarfing down the dish, and its deep, powerful flavors erupt in his mouth. The meat melts on his tongue, surprisingly juicy underneath the wonderfully crunchy surface. He can't remember the last time he ate something so delicious.

However, when he glances at Yuuri to communicate this, hoping it will please him too, the door slides open and a woman flies in, enthusiastically throwing her arms around Yuuri. Victor recognizes her as the person that found them in the forest and brought them here last night, but that doesn't dispel the discomfort of seeing Yuuri in another's embrace.

Victor vaguely remembers being shaken awake in the middle of the dark, the woman's glaring brown eyes and her gruff, exhausted voice asking him to help carry Yuuri who wouldn't wake up no matter what, then Yuuri's mom coming to welcome them with teary eyes and the bustle of people dragging Yuuri away from him and nudging him and Makkachin into a room with a heap of bedsheets splayed on the floor. Confused, he'd lied down on the sheets to collect his thoughts and gather the courage to ask what was going on, but the next he knew, he was waking up with the orange light of daybreak in his eyes. He'd left the room and was soon found by Yuuri's mother, who introduced herself and thanked him effusively for bringing Yuuri home before pushing him towards the baths, not even giving him a chance to ask for Yuuri, saying he looked too pale and that he must have caught a chill in the forest. And then he'd melted in the baths, apparently for hours, until Yuuri found him.

"Yuuri! I came as soon as I heard you woke up! What were you doing out there in the middle of the night, you careless child?" the woman chides, her fine eyebrows pinched.

"M-minako-sensei!" Yuuri chokes, pushing away from her suffocating hug.

She plops down to sit opposite from Victor, a bottle of liquor in hand and Yuuri kneels by her side, looking sheepish. Victor doesn't like this. What type of relationship does she have with Yuuri? He's starting to feel at a disadvantage, only now realizing that probably every person in this building knows more about Yuuri than him.

"You had us worried sick!" Minako complains, pouring herself a cup of the brown liquor. "When your friends came to tell us you'd been chased by the royal guard, we feared you had been arrested! Have you apologized to your mother yet? Poor Hiroko hardly slept for the last two nights. Where did you even go?"

Yuuri flails, growing paler by the mounting accusations. "Ah… well I was… I-it's a long story and—" he cuts himself and freezes on the spot, eyes widening. "My friends? Chris and Phichit were here? They're alright?"

It had never occurred to him that there'd be more people who could receive Yuuri's attention. Victor's never had anyone but Yakov, so the notion of splitting his time with more people never quite crossed his mind. Of course it makes sense; even in his storybooks, the heroes have friends and families they treasure. And Yuuri's family has been so kind to him today, and this lady Minako saved them from the cold last night, and these "friends" Victor's just learning about were worried about Yuuri's safety, but that doesn't quell the sense of urgency to catch up, to learn more and more about Yuuri, to spend more time with him and become as important for him as the other people around him.

Minako downs the glass of liquor and immediately pours herself a second one. "Who do you think dropped off your glasses?" she asks, flicking his forehead lightly.

With a yelp, Yuuri touches his face and it's also the first time Victor notices the pair of lenses perched over the bridge of his nose. He'd had a passing feeling that Yuuri looked somehow sweeter and softer today, but he'd thought it was the lingering haze of the hot bad. Just now he realizes it's because the lenses make his eyes look bigger and rounder. He looks cute. It makes Victor want to hold him. He can't help wondering how many more facets of Yuuri he has yet to discover? And more importantly, will he be able to see them all in the short time they have left?

 

* * *

 

Yuuri's having a hard time catching up with Minako's rapid-fire accusations and scoldings, but at least he has the peace of mind of knowing his friends are alright.

"Everyone in town's been looking for you since we heard you were lost. I even letters to my acquaintances in the capital to see if you'd been taken by the guards. It was a pure miracle that I decided to wander into the forest last night; you were asleep and your fire was out, if I hadn't found you, you could've  _died_." She scowls, her cheeks already flushing with the alcohol. "Why did you let pretty boy here hog the whole shelter?" he asks, pointing her thumb at Victor, who gasps quietly.

"I apologize, I wasn't aware—" he starts, pushing his empty bowl of food aside.

But Yuuri won't let Victor take the blame for his own stubbornness. "It was my fault, I didn't know where we were and I wanted to keep guard." His prideful sense of obligation towards Victor had made him overexert his own body and he'd ended risking both of their lives. And Victor didn't know anything about the world outside of his tower. Minako is right, if she hadn't found them, they could have died and it would have been his fault. Is he really capable of getting Victor to the capital safely? Dread coils in his gut thinking how many more times he will put Victor in danger due to his terrible incompetence.

Minako hums, not fully convinced by his answer, nursing another cup of sake. "And you were quite a pain to bring back too." She adds, her tone lighter. "I couldn't wake you up and yet you kept squirming and kicking. And then you wouldn't let me drag you here, all you did was fight and yell:" she makes circles with her fingers around her eyes to simulate glasses and Yuuri already knows he won't like what he'll hear "I need to bring Victor, he's my  _Prince_!" she says with an exaggerated whine and smirks, side-eyeing Victor. Yuuri wants to burn himself to the ground in shame.

"Oh, then if not for Yuuri, Makkachin and I would've been abandoned!" Victor chimes in, eyes bright, a soft pink blush adorning his cheeks. "Yuuri saved us!"

"You could say that, I guess. Still should learn not to cause so much trouble when people are trying to save  _him_." Minako huffs, displeased. She pokes Yuuri's cheek to punctuate, but Yuuri's too concerned about his embarrassing, nonsensical proclamations to be bothered by that. "I don't think I've caught  _your prince's_  name though, now that I think of it?"

Yuuri flinches, horrified by her terrible phrasing, and wishes he could truly disappear. What will Victor think now that he's heard of Yuuri calling him a prince? He's as beautiful and ethereal as one for sure but still…

"Victor! My name's Victor. Pleased to meet you, and thank you for saving us." He says, his voice as cheerful as ever, but Yuuri notes much to his surprise, that there's a tightness to Victor's smile as he shakes Minako's hand. He's never seen Victor smile insincerely and it's a vexing, unpleasant sight.

"The pleasure is all mine, Victor." Minako responds and Yuuri also notices a twitch in her temple. There's a thick tension hanging above them that makes him forget his embarrassment. "And pray tell, what kingdom do you come from? I don't think I've heard of any prince Victor before."

"Oh no, not at all, I'm no prince at all, just a regular man." Victor shakes his hands in dismissal as soon as he's released from Minako's grip, then turns to look at Yuuri, his gaze growing a little gentler. "Though I'd gladly become one if only as to not disappoint Yuuri."

And there's the shame again. Will they both tease him with his half-conscious slip for the rest of his life?

"Is that so..." Minako hums again, fiddling with the bottle in her hand and letting the liquid swing and slosh against the ceramic walls. "Then would you mind telling me what were you planning wandering the forest in the middle of winter?"

Victor doesn't seem fazed by her less than cordial questioning. "Yuuri's taking me to the capital." He says simply. "We're going to see the lantern festival!"

And there's that almost childish excitement twinkling in his eyes and the grin he directs at Yuuri is so luminous it takes him a moment to realize the mistake. And in that lapse, Minako turns to look at him with wide eyes and a glare that says she thinks he's lost his mind (maybe he has).

"The  _capital_ , Yuuri? The lantern festival? Are you insane?!" she's one pitch below a full shriek but Yuuri only notices the quick twist of worry in Victor's expression.

"I-I… I can explain it's… it's complicated but I—" his gaze shifts quickly from Victor to Minako to his own trembling hands. If Minako hears the whole story, she might be more inclined to let it pass, but he doesn't want to get into another argument with Victor about his ambiguous relationship with his captor. He turns to look at Victor, trying to steady his own voice as he speaks. "I'm sorry Victor, could you give us a moment to speak in private?"

 

* * *

 

Victor slides the door closed and hesitates before walking away, holding his empty bowl of food. He's not sure of what just happened, but Yuuri's expression and Minako's angry reprimands make him anxious. He feels he's missing out on a crucial piece of information that could possibly hinder his journey with Yuuri and that thought frightens him. How many days does he have until the festival? How far is the capital? Will they be able to make it on time? Will he miss out on seeing the lights yet again even after going through all of this? He doesn't think Yuuri means to break his promise, but he's looked so unsettled during his whole discussion with Minako and Victor can't help the apprehension tightening his chest.

He wanders to the main hall, still rumbling with the loud voices of men and women sharing meals, laughing and some even singing. He spots Yuuri's mother expertly making her way through the crowds, her hands full with bountiful dishes that she drops on the tables without skipping a beat or spilling a single drop of broth. Yuuri's home has a warm, lively atmosphere that couldn't be more different from Victor's quiet, lonely tower, and he can't say he dislikes it at all. If not for the pressing matter of the festival and the uncertainty about whether he wants to go back to the tower after this is all over, he might not think it too bad to spend his days like this, maybe learn to meld in with the crowds, learn their songs and share all their fascinating stories.

"Oh, Vicchan darling, how did you enjoy your meal? Let me get that for you." Yuuri's mom chirps at him, smiling brightly as she grabs the empty bowl from his hands. He's seen that exact same smile on Yuuri, he realizes, and can't help but wonder if there's someone out there that shares his own smile, or maybe the shape of his nose or the color of his eyes. He's pondered about his own family –he must have one, he knows- but he's never wanted to ask Yakov about it. A part of him feels he'll find an answer at the end of this journey, no matter where it takes him, and he's not sure if that's exciting or scary. A bit of both, perhaps.

"I asked my daughter to give your little friend a bath, he looked like he really needed one, I hope you don't mind." She mentions. "They should be done soon. Oh, but where's Yuuri? That child can be so thoughtless, leaving you to wander on your own, and after he slept through the whole morning. Sit here, sit here." She ushers him inside the kitchen and shows him to a tall stool before he can try to explain that Yuuri didn't really abandon him. Quite the contrary, according to lady Minako's account, Yuuri had been ferociously adamant about not leaving him behind. Victor's heart had skipped a beat when he'd heard that. "Are you still hungry? Do you want anything else to eat?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine!" he rushes to say before she can serve him another dish. "I'm plenty full just from that bowl you gave me, it was delicious, thank you."

She beams at him and continues merrily prancing around the kitchen, tending to different bowls and preparations at the same time and Victor watches her intently. There's a kitchen in his tower and he's used it on more than one occasion, but everything in this one looks notoriously more complex and delicious than anything he's ever tried. It renews the itching hopes of staying in the Katsuki house a little longer, to be able to sample all these new flavors and dishes he's sure he'll never be able to reproduce.

A thought passes his mind. It's perhaps too adventurous, maybe even intrusive, but when is he going to have an opportunity like this again? And he doesn't know how long Yuuri will take in whatever conversation he's having with Minako. He has nothing to lose really…

"Lady Katsuki? If I must be so bold…"

 

* * *

 

Minako sighs with exhaustion, her bottle of alcohol more than half empty. Yuuri is, as always, quite astonished by her outstanding resilience. He probably would've blacked out five cups ago.

"I'm having a hard time believing this fantastical story you're telling me, Yuuri." She says, capping the bottle at last.

He doesn't blame her. "I know it sounds unbelievable but… just look at his hair. Nothing makes a lot of sense but I… I can't let him go back there."

"I just don't like how this sounds, kiddo. Are you sure he's not lying to lure you in? What if it's a trap?"

Yuuri cocks his head. The idea never crossed his mind, not even in passing. "Isn't it a bit too elaborated to be a scheme? You said it yourself, it's too absurd. Besides…" he looks at the door, his chest stirring. It wasn't a dream. Victor is real. His innocent joy and beautiful smile, the way he makes Yuuri crave for an adventure, it's all real. "He's just… I know it's silly, but I trust him." How could someone that looked at the snow like it was the most marvelous thing in the world bear any malicious intent?

Minako smirks, flicking his forehead again. "Stay with me, lover boy, many have lost themselves in a pretty pair of eyes."

Yuuri feels his skin burn at the insinuation. Victor's beauty and charm are undeniable but it's not like Yuuri's thinking… they barely know each other and Victor doesn't have a life outside the tower and Yuuri's a fugitive and… and they have no real attachments beyond their little quest, so afterwards they would both be free to—

He shakes his head and burns hotter.

"Okay, let's talk to your prince then."

"Minako-sensei, please stop calling him that!" he begs, not sure how much more embarrassment his body can take.

He follows Minako out of the room, downstairs, and into the kitchen, where his father pointed them to when they asked for Victor's whereabouts. His mind races, worried that Minako might say something mean or tactless –like he himself had done just yesterday- that would make Victor run away.

All his worries are forgotten the moment they step into the kitchen and find Victor covered in flour from head to toe, splotches of broth on the olive green robes he's still wearing since they stepped out of the bath. His hair is partially tied up in a bun, which keeps it away from his face even if the majority of it still pools around the floor. His mother is helping him dust off a speck of flour from his shoulder when they notice Yuuri and Minako by the entrance, and Victor beams at him, his mouth taking the lovely shape of a heart.

"Yuuri, look! Your mom is teaching me to make katsudon! I didn't know cooking was so fun!" he exclaims, obviously delighted. All Yuuri can do is feel grateful that he gets to see firsthand how happy Victor feels about yet another new discovery. He's sure he'll never grow tired of this sight. It's almost as if Victor himself shines when he smiles, and he's so bright he makes Yuuri's heart flutter.

He's almost forgotten Minako is there, and when she speaks, he almost jumps out of his skin.

"Alright, I think I've figured out how to solve this situation." She says, leaning against the wall.

From the corner of his eye, Yuuri catches his mother slipping out of the room, probably reading the tension in the air.

"I'll be the one taking not-your-prince to the capital."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha this chapter was supposed to move the story much more forward but then it kept getting longer so I guess departing Yutopia will have to wait until the next one. Good thing I tagged it slow burn? On the positive side of things, that means I already have about 1/5 of next chapter written. This one turned out to feel a little bit like filler, but I wanted to have a few little moments to build on their growing mutual feelings. That's the aspect of this story I'm most concerned about and I hope I'm developing it properly.
> 
> Afaik towels weren't of common use during medieval times, so how did they dry Victor's hair???? Disney magic, as usual
> 
> I want to send my eternal gratitude to the handful of people that comment regularly because without that, it would be even harder than it already is to motivate myself to write this story. Idk, I'm at that impasse in which I love this story and I'm excited to share all the things I've thought for it, but at the same time wonder if it really is only me that loves it. Which is why the scarce comments I get are such dear treasures for me. And I really hope people would tell me if something's wrong with this story or why it's not working for you or something because I feel a little lost. It's probably my pride as a writer, but I wish my story could be loved by readers the way I love it and I'm not sure if the short-comings in my prose are getting in the way of that. I think a lot of people don't realize how vital comments are for us writers 
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the whining, i've had a stressful week. If you enjoy my writing and want to know more about it/send me some love, you can hmu @ [my tumblr](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com). Comments are always the most encouraging kind of support! ~~if you're wondering why you're seeing this copy-pasted everywhere it's because I had to edit shit out due to a good samaritan report hahahaha~~ Or like... drop me a comment? Pretty please? It's my birthday tomorrow? (no, seriously, it is my birthday, that's why I'm posting today)


	8. But they followed their wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minako makes Victor an offer he doesn't want to accept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a ton to @dontcallmekoko who had to sort out through the typo-palooza that was the original draft of this chapter Dx

Victor cocks his head, confused. He's not really sure what to make of Minako's suggestion. He doesn't think it'll be a problem to add another person to their expedition, but he doesn't see much purpose in it. And if he's honest, he's not all that sold on having to share Yuuri's attention with her, when he knows so little about their relationship. But he also knows it would make him look impolite if he turned her down, and then Yuuri would be disappointed to see Victor doesn't have the virtues to even qualify as a prince.

"Okay, I guess the more the merrier, right?" he tries, forcing himself to smile in spite of his reticence.

Strangely, the looks he gets from Minako and Yuuri seem to indicate that wasn't the correct answer.

"I think you're misunderstanding." Minako says, eyeing him pointedly "I'll be taking you to the capital  _in Yuuri's stead_. He won't be coming with us."

Victor's eyes widen. "What?" He snaps, forgetting his congenial mask. "No, no, I…" He straightens up again, remembering all the times Yakov has grilled him about proper manners "I appreciate your kind offer, my lady, but Yuuri has been an excellent guide and I'd much prefer to continue the journey with him." What kind of absurd proposition is that anyway?

Minako steps into Victor's personal space, eyes cold and judgmental. "Listen, pretty boy,"she says, her voice sharp, "I don't know what your intentions are but I won't allow you to drag Yuuri in this crazy, dangerous quest of yours, I don't care what kind of tragic childhood story you come up with."

Victor steps back, intimidated by the weight of her glare. "Is… is it really that dangerous?" was Yakov right all along? Maybe Yuuri tried to be nice and embellish the truth just so he wouldn't be disappointed.

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "It is for Yuuri. There are people in the city who could cause him a lot of trouble. If you care for Yuuri you won't force him to put himself at such risk."

Yuuri intervenes there, tugging at Minako's elbow and trying to formulate what Victor presumes is an objection, but his expression is frantic and confused, and she doesn't let him finish a full thought.

"Yuuri, I know you have good intentions, but you need to look after yourself. You know what will happen if the guard finds you. No one in Hasetsu will give you away, but that won't be the case out there. And you've been on the run for a long time, who knows what kind of punishment they would give you. You might never be able to come back."

Victor's heart sinks.

He's been so selfish, never thinking of what Yuuri wants or needs, focusing only on his own foolish dreams. Yuuri's already done so much for him and he's taken him for granted. If not for Minako, he might have put Yuuri in harm's way just to fulfill his childish wishes and then...

He chews on his lip and clenches his fists, determined. His decision is made.

 

* * *

 

Truly, Yuuri is not quite as concerned with Minako's worries as he is about the crestfallen expression Victor is wearing. He wishes to wipe that look away from Victor's face and never let him feel this way again.

"I'm really sorry, Yuuri, I… I didn't know this would be so troublesome for you. I'm sorry that I was so stubborn. It- it's okay, I can find another… I can go with Lady Minako or find another guide." He seems to hiccup at the end, and his hair cascades to obscure his face

Yuuri tightens his fists. He knows Minako's suggestion is the most logical. Victor would get to see the lights and Yuuri wouldn't be risking his freedom. A win for everybody involved. He should just leave it be. But a part of him doesn't want to let go, doesn't want to give up halfway through. He'd promised to show Victor the flowers, and the smell of freshly baked bread, and fluffy rabbits and the beautiful lanterns. What will become of his pride if he can't even keep such simple promises?

But he realizes this sense of obligation he feels towards Victor is little but self-serving arrogance, a need to prove himself after everything else in his life has turned into such spectacular failure. He would be jeopardizing Victor's dream for the sake of his own ego. He can't do that to Victor.

"Yeah, uhm… that—that may be for the best." He mutters, casting his gaze to the ground.

A cold silence hangs over them. For a moment, Yuuri wishes he'd never stumbled into Victor's tower.

"Alright!" Minako interjects, her voice sharp "We'll have to leave today if we hope to make it to the city by the day of the festival." She announces, hands on her hips "Give me a couple of hours to get my things ready, and then we're going."

What an awful thought. If he hadn't found the tower, Victor would still be imprisoned. Instead of being so concerned about his own hurt feelings, he should, at the very least, feel satisfied that he's done some good for the world. How selfish he is. Victor is definitely better off without him.

 

* * *

 

 

Yuuri's avoiding Victor.

 

 

He runs around the inn coming up with non-existent tasks until Mari gets fed up of him getting in the way without actually helping, so he locks himself in his bedroom. He paces around trying to distract his mind, without much success. Defeated, he plops down on the bed and glances up at his ceiling, at the painting of the Lost Prince that hangs from it. Strangely, not even letting his imagination wander to those childish daydreams of dancing with the prince brings much solace to his heart.

He curls on his side and his eyes catch sight of his dancing blades resting against the wall. He gets out of bed and crawls over to pick them up. They show a few scratches, and the blades look dirty. He probably bumped them against a few trees and rocks when he was fleeing the royal guard whilst drunk and lost in the forest. He rummages through his satchel for a cloth and wipes away the dirt and bruises. For a brief moment, he's able to clear his thoughts, focusing solely on this simple, mechanical task.

Once the boots and blades are as spotless as an old pair can be, Yuuri looks out the window wistfully. The sun is past its zenith and its rays shine on the snow covering the ground of the small yard at the back of the inn. Truly, the garden is most beautiful in spring, with the large cherry tree blossoming beautiful pink, but Yuuri can't bring himself to dislike the peaceful winter scenery.

He is momentarily blinded by the glare of the light that reflects on the stream that crosses the garden, its surface completely frozen. He looks down at his recently polished boots and smiles.

 

* * *

 

 

Victor is avoiding Yuuri.

 

 

It's a bit of a contradiction, really. He should be seeking Yuuri out to enjoy the little time they have left, maybe convince him that they can meet again after the festival, somewhere Yuuri isn't in danger. Deep down he knows he's dying to do it. But he has never had to let go of anyone and he's afraid it'll be even harder if he tries to cling to Yuuri until the last possible moment.

 

 

 

A part of him is starting to dread the idea of going to see the lights.

 

 

 

It's an odd thing to become aware of, but he can't deny he's not as excited about this journey now that he won't be doing it with Yuuri. It doesn't make sense. Seeing the lights has been his greatest dream for nearly twenty years. Now he's starting to wonder if it will truly be that beautiful if he's not watching it with Yuuri.

Of course, he can't say that out loud. He doesn't want Yuuri to risk his own safety by coming with him just because he feels obligated to Victor.

The feeling is troublesome nonetheless.

There is nothing he can really do so he forces himself to be more positive. He tries to psyche himself up, remember how beautiful the lights look from his window, imagine how much more surprising and wonderful they will be when he can see them up close. Even if the journey itself won't be as fun, the end destination will be the most exciting experience of his life for sure, something he will treasure for as long as he lives.

He gathers his scarce possessions for when Minako comes back. He is especially careful when packing his dancing blades; he doesn't want them to get bent or damaged in any way, or for the blades to rip the sack with their sharp edges.

Before lacing up the bag, he starts wondering if there is any place nearby where he can dance. It feels it's been ages since he last put the blades on and it is starting to make him feel restless. He realizes it is the first time he has gone so long without dancing. Before leaving the tower, the idea of touching the ice less than three times a day had seemed preposterous. Yet since yesterday morning, he's only danced once, and he wasn't even feeling great at that time, thinking Yuuri had rejected him and would abandon him in the tower. Afterwards, discovering all of the new things the world has to offer with Yuuri had made him forget about what used to be almost a physical need.

He doesn't have a lot to pack and neither does he feel like talking to anyone –the guests at the inn still look at him with distant curiosity and fear-, so he finds his way back to the kitchen, where Lady Hiroko is setting half a dozen plates on top of a wooden platter.

"What can I do for you, Vicchan?" she asks, perking up when she notices his presence.

Victor smiles at her. He can't help wondering what it would be like to have someone so loving and gentle to talk to every day. Yakov has never truly been cruel, but Yuuri's mom almost radiates a sort of kindness that feels like a warm, fluffy blanket that would keep him safe from all harm.

"I was hoping you knew if there is some place nearby where I can give my dancing blades some use." He responds with a charming smile, showing the boots he decided to unpack at the last minute.

She smiles brightly. "Oh! You're a winter dancer too? That's lovely!" She skids past him with the tray in her hands filled to the brim with food and drinks. "There is a stream that passes through our yard, in the back, Yuuri used to practice there. It's not big, but it's very safe and no one will bother you." She explains, pointing at a sliding door at the back of the kitchen.

"Thank you, madam." he says, skipping towards the direction she pointed, enjoying the thick smell of food that permeates the kitchen. Perhaps after the festival he can come back and learn to cook more recipes with Yuuri's wonderful mom.

Beyond the sliding door there is a garden covered in snow, with a large tree with branches devoid of any foliage. The snow crunches under his feet, and it is thick enough for them to sink a little in it with every step. Victor could probably contemplate the wonders of feeling the snow under his feet for the rest of his life.

His thoughts are interrupted by the slash of blades. It's easy to find the frozen stream Lady Hiroko mentioned, passing closely under the large tree. Made even easier by Yuuri's figure gliding on top of it with practiced knowledge of the space and its limits. His blades make a crystalline sound as they cut through the ice.

Instead of approaching, Victor decides to observe. He hasn't had the chance to see Yuuri's winter dance, unless he counts the night they met in his tower, but Yuuri wasn't wearing his blades that night and had been closer to stumbling and slipping than actual winter dancing (it had still been the most marvelous night of Victor's life).

So he watches. And what he sees is even more wondrous than he ever could have expected. The way Yuuri moves, there's a raw vulnerability to it, but also a passionate drive that makes his performance all the more intense. When he spins, his body makes beautiful shapes, and the steps he crafts are exquisitely enchanting. He moves like he's playing music with the instrument of his body, the melodies almost visible and full of color as they rise from every figure he carves into the ice.

There's a change midway. Yuuri's confident and enchanting steps fade, as if the music playing in his mind is now different. Victor knows what it has become the moment Yuuri makes the first hesitant steps after the switch, and Victor has to physically stop his jaw from dropping to the floor.

Yuuri is imitating Victor's winter dance. Every step is mimicking the ones Victor performed yesterday in his bout of frustration and disappointment. But somehow, they're different. More hesitant and innocent. Rather than frustration, what shines through is the feeling of longing.

Victor inhales sharply.  _Longing_. That was the true meaning of his dance yesterday. His frustration and disappointment had just been a by-product of years and years of longing, of wishing for something desperately and being constantly reminded he couldn't have it. True, something had felt awkward and inadequate yesterday when he'd taken to the ice, like something didn't fit. But how had Yuuri deciphered the real feelings he'd tried to express through his dance before Victor himself?

As the momentum continues to build, Victor can tell Yuuri is preparing for a jump. His blade picks the ice and he lifts his body completely, spinning himself into one, two, three, four full, graceful rotations. Yakov had told him jumping like that was nigh impossible, that he was uniquely gifted to be able to do it, yet Yuuri did it with such beauty and musicality; it's the most amazing jump Victor has ever—

Yuuri falls face first on the ice and groans.

 

* * *

 

"Yuuri!" A voice calls his name, but he's too dizzy to make it out. "Are you hurt? Should I call your mom?"

He lifts his head to find starry blue eyes tainted with worry, a perfectly pointed nose beautifully flushed at its tip. "V-Victor!" he squeaks. He feels something warm trickle from his nose, and then sees a drop of red tainting the ice beneath him. Oh, he's bleeding.

Victor flails in alarm. "Hold on, Yuuri, I will—" for some reason he's scrambling to gather his long hair, which Yuuri doesn't understand.

"It's okay, I'm—I'm okay, thanks." Yuuri says, wiping the blood away quickly, hoping to appease him.

"You should be more careful, you could've hurt yourself." Victor admonishes, crossing his arms over his chest. "This stream is too narrow to be jumping like that."

Yuuri concedes he has a point. He doesn't even know what got into him that made him try that kind of jump. He'd remembered Victor dancing in the frozen room in his tower and then his body had started to move on its own. "Yeah, you're right I—" Oh no. "Wait, you were watching?" His blood runs cold.

Victor, obviously unaware of Yuuri's growing horror, just cocks his head to the side. "I was." He says with a grin.

Oh, this is the worst. "I'm  _so_  sorry you had to see something like that!" he whines, burying his face in his hands "Shit, this is so embarrassing." His body freezes with mortification. What will Victor think of him, trying to copy his beautiful dance, and doing it so clumsily to boot? He's probably glad he will be rid of Yuuri soon.

His hands are pulled away from his face gently, and he looks up to find them held by Victor's. "Yuuri, you don't have to apologize." His smile is so gentle, Yuuri's breath hitches. "When I was watching you dance I thought it—"

He doesn't get to hear how that sentence ends because there's a woof and a screech and immediately he's pounced back into the ice by a heavy, fluffy weight.

"Makkachin!" He laughs, moving his face to the side so the dog's tongue won't get in his eyes.

Someone stomps outside to the garden, the snow crunching under their angry feet. Yuuri cranes his neck to look past the blur of Makkachin and sees Mari towering over them.

"You." She points at Victor sharply. She's not yelling, but Yuuri recognizes her quiet fury. "Your dog just made a mess of the storage room that I just finished tidying up and you're not going anywhere before you clean it."

Yuuri flails. "Marineechan, that's too much! I'll clean it up, I promise." Victor already has a very small window of time to make it to the city before the festival. Even if Yuuri isn't going with him, he won't let anything get in the way of Victor realizing his dream.

"It's okay, Yuuri, don't worry. I'm sure it won't take long." Victor says confidently. "It's only natural that I take responsibility for my silly little friend, right?" He coos, rustling Makkachin's muzzle.

It doesn't quite sit well with Yuuri. "At least let me help you," he insists.

The corners of Victor's eyes crinkle softly as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "I'd appreciate that a lot."

 

* * *

 

The storage room is in quite a bigger state of disaster than either of them expected.

"I'm glad you volunteered to help; I may have underestimated how long this would take." Victor admits, the edge of his smile twitching.

Makkachin had apparently made it his personal mission to guarantee not a single item was left in its place. There were broken plates and pieces of cloth lying around. A wooden shelf had been knocked down and the items it held lay scattered all over the floor. A sack of rice had a hole in it and the contents had spilled out, and apparently Makkachin had decided to roll around over them, spreading them even further over the straw woven floor.

"I'm  _so_  sorry, Yuuri." Victor clutches his head in his hands. "Your family has been so kind to me and this is what you get for your hospitality." It was already bad that he had used their baths, eaten their food and slept under their roof without having a single coin to repay them, and now all this food has been spoiled. It's a miracle they're not throwing him out or demanding he stay behind until he's paid back all the costs he and his incorrigible dog have incurred.

Yuuri doesn't seem too troubled. "Don't worry about it." In fact, Victor would venture to say he looks a little amused. "I'm just glad Makkachin didn't make it to where we store the meat. Now  _that_  would have been a disaster."

They start tidying up in comfortable silence, occasionally laughing when they find a spilled bottle they hadn't noticed at first, or when they accidentally slip on the grains of rice scattered over the floor. From time to time, Victor finds an object he has never seen before and asks Yuuri about it.

"Oh, that is used for preparing tea. Dad brought it from our homeland." Yuuri explains, placing the lustrous piece of oddly shaped ceramics on a shelf.

"Homeland?" Victor asks, his curiosity piqued.

"The land where I was born is very far away from here, and very different. My father always wanted to see the world beyond the Great Sea and the Kingdom of the Middle, so when an opportunity presented itself with the help of a merchant friend of his, he took it, and then we sort of stayed here."

He makes it sound like something so insignificant. Victor has lived confined to a small room for so long that just the vastness of the woods they walked through yesterday seemed immeasurable. Now he has to wrap his head around the notion of other kingdoms, of lands that exist beyond a sea he's never seen. The sea! He's read about it, seen it in maps, but the idea of a body of water so big you can't see the other side of it is just unfathomable. And there are even more lands beyond it? It took them a whole day just to get from his tower to Yuuri's family home, just how long would the distance be to reach Yuuri's birthplace? How many more lands are out there that he's only barely heard about through maps and history books? What if there are places no one's ever been to? How much more is there in this world that he hasn't ever known to exist? Will he ever have enough time to see all of it?

"Yuuri, tell me more about your homeland!" he peeps, excited and overwhelmed.

Yuuri laughs, like it's nothing. "I was very little when we left, I hardly remember it."

Victor sighs, a little disappointed. He wishfully thinks how amazing it would be to be able to go to that distant land with Yuuri.

They continue cleaning, mostly in silence. Victor frequently finds strange items from Yuuri's land that he insistently asks about, and Yuuri's all too happy to tell him about them, even bringing up an old story related to it: if it's significant to his parents, if it was part of one of his sister's childhood mischiefs, if Yuuri ever used it for a special occasion…"This is way more fun than doing it alone. It hardly counts as punishment, I'd say." Victor chirps, placing the fifteenth 'it's a thing from our homeland' object back on the shelf.

He'd had to learn the hard way that keeping his home in the tower clean was a basic necessity if he didn't want to go crazy, but he'd never enjoyed cleaning up at the end of the day. It was monotonous and boring, and it always meant another day gone by without anything new to excite him. For the last few years, the act itself had become something melancholic, and he'd often found himself wondering if there was any point in repeating the same old routine day after day after day, with no prospects of ever going outside and experiencing with his own eyes the world he only knew through books and stories. He'd come to dread it so much, there were days in which he'd avoid moving anything out of place, in hopes of averting that melancholy. It never really worked.

But with Yuuri it's different. Even something so mundane is fun and special. They exchange stories and laugh and freak out when Makkachin walks into the room and almost knocks over the shelf again, and whine when they thought they'd finished for the umpteenth time only to find more rice grains stashed in a corner.

When they're finally finished, they sit on the floor, back to back, and sigh. Makkachin prods inside once again. "Oh, don't you dare." Victor mock threatens, making a sign with his hands to call Makkachin over. His fur feels softer and fluffier than ever and Victor feels like lying down and cuddling him for the rest of the afternoon while listening to Yuuri's stories. "You're my hero, Yuuri, I think I never would've finished without your help."

Yuuri chuckles, leaning back against him. His figure is leaner than Victor's, but there is something comforting about the warm pressure of his body.

He wonders if he'll have this kind of fun with Minako on their journey to the city. Immediately he knows it won't be the case. Even if Minako seems like a nice person, there's something about his connection to Yuuri that he can't explain, but also knows can't be replicated.

The thought sours his mood. If only Yuuri could come without risking his safety…

 

 

"Victor, I—"

 

 

Victor perks, "Yes?" He twists his neck a little, hoping to get a look at Yuuri's expression and get an idea of what he's thinking. But Yuuri's facing down at his own feet in a way that Victor can't see him without pulling away from that comfortable pressure on his back. And he has a feeling that maybe Yuuri needs this odd middle point between closeness and distance to say what he wants to say. So he waits.

 

 

 

 

"I've been thinking… You know, about… I'm…"

 

 

 

 

The door slams open.

"Chop chop pretty boy, if we don't leave right away we might not make it on time."

* * *

 

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

He almost,  _almost_  told Victor that he wanted to go with him to the festival, the royal guard be damned. How terribly stupid. It's a miracle Minako-sensei arrived just in time to stop him from blurting out something so terrible.

Yuuri's never thought of himself as strong. Never felt important in any capacity, or that he could ever have a big impact on anyone's life. He knows his family and friends love him, but he's never  _been_  more than plain old, dime-a-dozen Yuuri, never thought he could be.

But Victor—

Victor makes him feel special. He looks at him with wonder and amazement, with starry eyes and heart-shaped smiles. With Victor, he feels like he can get stronger, that he can be a hero. That he can do something that  _matters_. He feels like he can do for Victor something no one else can.

Of course he knows that's not the case. Anyone could take Victor to the festival. It would make more sense too, for all parties involved. If Victor is seen with Yuuri –a wanted criminal with a price on his head- he could get punished, too. Rather than saving Victor, Yuuri could be putting him in terrible danger out of a selfish desire to feel important and needed. Yuuri's not special at all. He just happened to be the one to bring Victor outside for the first time, but it could've been anyone else. Now that he's meeting more people, he too will realize how plain Yuuri is. He probably won't even remember him by the time he reaches the city.

Startled by Minako's arrival, he scrambles away from Victor's addictive warmth, doing a piss poor job of acting casual about it.

"Y-you're right!" he sputters "You should hurry so you can find a good shelter before it gets dark."

The moment he says the words it hits him.

 

 

He has to say goodbye to Victor.

 

 

* * *

 

It doesn't take more than a few minutes. Still rattled by the interruption and the sudden loss of Yuuri's reassuring presence, Victor is quick to repack his dancing blades and get ready to leave. Before he's out the door, Yuuri's father calls him and offers him a thick blue travel cape.

"It's going to get cold at night out there." He says with a kind smile, wrapping the cape around his shoulders.

Victor clutches the hem of the cape, his stomach twisted in a tight knot. "Thank you." He says, genuinely touched. "I'll make sure to bring it back," he promises.

Yuuri is petting Makkachin, kneeling by the door. When he notices Victor approaching, he ruffles the top of Makkachin's head a little roughly and gets back on his feet. "It's time," he says with a sad smile.

Victor swallows thickly, but says nothing as they step outside. Minako is waiting a few steps away, by the fence that limits the Katsuki property. She's carrying a traveling bag on her shoulder and her arms are crossed over her chest, her expression dubious but impatient.

"I guess this was lucky after all." Yuuri says quietly, glancing at her and waving. "Minako-sensei can take care of you much better than I could."

Victor hates the sound of that. It almost sounds like Yuuri is relieved. Like he never wanted to come with him to begin with.

A cold breeze blows by, making his hair rustle messily. Yuuri looks down at his own feet, refusing to meet Victor's eyes.

Victor inhales sharply.

Of course he didn't. Victor has been too self-absorbed all along to realize that he's been nothing but a burden to Yuuri all along. It really must be a relief to be rid of his childishness and his ignorance and his whimsical ideas.

The thought makes his heart ache.

 

* * *

 

It's awkwardly quiet between them and Yuuri wishes he could pull away, but at the same time he doesn't want to.

 

"So… this is goodbye, I suppose." Victor says finally.

Yuuri nods, his eyes still downcast.

Suddenly, a pale hand enters his field of vision.

"I must thank you, Yuuri." He continues.

Oh. Victor wants to shake hands.

"You don't have to. I didn't really do anything." Except for getting drunk and somehow climbing that 30 foot tower barehanded. Not really a lot of merit in that, especially since he doesn't even remember doing it. He accepts the handshake nonetheless.

Victor shakes his head. "Don't be silly. I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't found me. Yuuri, you saved me. I will never forget that." He squeezes Yuuri's hand with both of his and keeps it there.

Yuuri looks up and finds him smiling. Not the heart-shaped smile though, and it almost doesn't feel right. Of course, that thought doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't Victor smile? He's about to embark on a journey to fulfill his lifelong dream. He must be excited. Yuuri's only being self-indulgent, convincing himself that he's the only one that gets to see Victor's real, beautiful smile and all the other ones look "wrong" to him. He's being selfish and stupid again.

"I could—" Victor pauses, his eyes brightening. "After the festival I could come back. We could meet again. I-I have to bring this back to your father anyway."

Yuuri's heart shatters. How lovely that sounds. If it were up to him, he'd wait for Victor days, weeks, months, however long it took. But he can't stay here for so long, not with the royal guard on his trail. The last thing he wants is to bring more trouble to his family.

"That would be nice" he says anyway, feeling his eyes sting as he squeezes Victor's hand. By the look in Victor's eyes, he thinks they both  _know_.

Perhaps it's better this way though. Once he's seen the world, why would Victor want to come back to dull, selfish Yuuri when he could keep exploring, learning, finding new, exciting things he's never seen before? And Yuuri would wilt away waiting for him. Because Yuuri's selfish, he'd rather run away than find himself forgotten and abandoned.

"We really have to leave now or we won't make it to the shelter!" Minako calls, breaking the pregnant silence between them.

 

 

Their hands are still laced together tightly.

 

 

Yuuri doesn't want to let go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Victor doesn't want to let go.

 

 

Yuuri's not looking at him and Victor wants… he doesn't know what he wants. He wants to see the lights and he wants to be with Yuuri and he doesn't understand how such simple wishes became completely incompatible. Why did this have to become so complicated?

Makkachin whines at their feet.

"You… you should go." Yuuri breathes quietly. He tugs his hand free of Victor's grasp.

Victor feels so empty.

"Right. Yes, I shouldn't—I'll get going now." He takes a step back before he's tempted to pull Yuuri closer.

Yuuri nods. "Goodbye, Victor." He looks up and there's a small smile on his lips. "I hope you have a wonderful journey."

Fake smiles have always been hard for him, but he knows how to pull them off.

 

 

"Goodbye, Yuuri. Thank you, for everything."

 

 

He turns away before his mask falls off, the forced pull on his cheeks already unbearable.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri doesn't even wait for Victor and Makkachin to leave. The moment Victor turns away from him, he rushes back inside, speeding through the main hall and up to his room, where he shuts the door before finally letting himself cry. Hot tears spill onto his knees when he hugs them close to his chest.

There's a knock on his door, but the person on the other side doesn't wait for his response and steps inside immediately. "I brought clean bed sheets." Mari explains, pacing into the bedroom and throwing the clean sheets by the bed.

Yuuri rushes to wipe his tears and struggles to level his voice to talk to her. "I can do that," he says, gesturing at the bed. "You don't need to… I'll do it." He's trying his best to be coherent and not start crying again, but he's failing spectacularly.

Mari barely acknowledges his presence. "I've been doing it for years since you left, it's part of my routine already. And you're horrible at making the bed." Her voice is indifferent and she doesn't even spare him a glance as she pulls off the dirty covers and throws them to a corner.

Unsure of what to do, Yuuri remains seated in his curled up position, hoping she finishes soon so he can continue to wallow in his misery, seeing how he has nothing else he can do. Being miserable is one of the few things he's consistently successful at anyway.

He doesn't know how many minutes have gone by with his head buried in his crossed arms, when he feels her sit by his side.

"You know, I've always thought that a decision you regret before you even make it is a bad decision, no matter the circumstances."

His head lifts from between his arms.

"Eh?"

She doesn't turn to look at him, to the point Yuuri starts wondering if she'd actually said anything.

"I just think purposely choosing something that will make you unhappy is very counterintuitive."

Yuuri rests his cheek atop his crossed arms. He doesn't want to think about it.

"I can't decide something so important just for my own selfishness," he says, swallowing the thick knot at the base of his throat.

Mari hums, her fingers rapping on the tatami mat. "Is selfishness all that bad? It was that weird guy's selfishness that got him out of that tower -assuming that's a real thing and not something you invented when you were drunk. I don't think there's anything wrong in doing everything you can to find your personal happiness."

Yuuri's eyes widen. He hadn't really thought about it that way. Victor had also said at first he preferred to come with him. Maybe they were both selfish enough to play off the risks and complications that could cause?

He banishes that hope immediately. Victor's selfishness is way purer and more naïve, centered around a childhood dream. Yuuri, on the other hand, just wanted to see Victor's eyes sparkling with wonder because it made him feel special, when he wasn't. It was arrogance and selfishness and it was ugly. Victor deserves better.

"But I'm—"

He doesn't get to protest because there's a soft knock on the door followed by his mother walking in carrying a tray of food. He quickly wipes his face, even if it's probably pointless. She has always been good at telling when he's been crying.

"Oh, I'm glad I found you, Yuuri," she says casually, kneeling down to the floor where he's sitting. "I brought you katsudon! That's always cheered you up, right?" She smiles merrily and passes him the tray.

He looks at the bowl of food, the smell quickly reaching his nose, thick and inviting, incredibly appetizing.

 

His stomach twists. He doesn't want to eat it.

 

"Sorry, Mom I'm not… I just ate a little while ago, remember?"

She doesn't seem deterred. "I see, I'm sorry. I was really hoping you'd try it, it's a new thing and I wanted your opinion."

He looks at her, cocking his head in confusion. His mother has been doing the same recipe for as long as he remembers and everyone loves it. Why would she want to change anything about it? He examines the dish more closely, but at least at first glance, it looks exactly the same as usual.

"I guess a bite wouldn't hurt…" he muses. Eating would be a good way of fake-making himself feel better at the very least.

His mom claps her hands and pushes the tray closer to him. Still hesitant, Yuuri picks up the bowl and the chopsticks and hastily takes a bite of the breaded meat.

Oh.

How strange.

On the surface it's the same taste as always, but deep down there's something different to it. Not better or worse, just… different. It's familiar enough to be comforting, yet it has that new  _something_  that makes it exciting and mysterious.

He takes another bite, and another. The egg, the juicy meat, the crunchy bread and the fluffy rice, the same perfect combination he's always loved. He chews slowly trying to make out what this different thing is. A new ingredient? A different cooking method? Maybe a change in the spices? He starts crying and he doesn't even know why.

Before he realizes, he's eaten the whole thing, and yet he feels no closer to untangling the mystery than he was after the first bite.

"What—" he licks his lips, chasing the last bits of rich flavor he can. "What was that?"

His mom leans her cheek on her palm, "What was what?" she asks innocently. "Did you like it?"

He stares intently at the empty bowl, as if that could will more katsudon to appear. "It's… Yes! It was delicious but also very warm and… it had a unique flavor that I can't describe, I—"

To his surprise, she chuckles. "Vicchan will be so happy to hear that."

Yuuri's eyes widen. "Eh? Vicch—?"

 

Oh.

 

He drops the bowl and it bounces off the tatami floor.

 

 

_Yuuri, look! Your mom's teaching me how to make katsudon!_

 

 

"V-Victor… Victor made-?"

 

"He was very eager to hear your feedback, you should go tell him you liked it."

Yuuri's heart skips a beat. Then it sinks again in his chest. "Victor is already…" he trails off, his eyes stinging again. He remembers the softness of Victor's voice saying goodbye, and the tender grip of his hands.

A pair of hands clutch his shoulders warmly. When he looks up, he's met with his mother's usual gentle smile. "Well then," she pats his cheek softly, "you'll have to hurry, won't you?"

He inhales sharply. His blood thrums in his veins, his mind rushes with fear and excitement.

 

 

He wonders what face Victor would make if Yuuri told him that he liked his katsudon.

 

 

_Is selfishness really that bad?_

 

 

Then it hits him.

 

 

 

 

He wants to go with Victor.

 

 

 

 

Not to save him, or out of a misguided sense of obligation.

Not to feel better about himself or to stroke his bruised ego.

 

He just wants to  _be_  with Victor.

 

See the way his eyes sparkle brightly every time he discovers a new thing he's never seen before.

He wants to be there with Victor at the festival, see if his smile will take the shape of a heart when he's surrounded by thousands of floating lights.

 

He glances over at Mari and his mother, both of them smiling and nodding at him.

"Thank you," he breathes, and bolts out of the room.

 

* * *

 

"You know, you could be a liiittle less obvious about not wanting me to come along."

Victor looks up at Minako, who walks at a brisk pace. She doesn't look particularly upset, but she doesn't seem to be all that thrilled about this journey either.

The sky has turned dull grey. His hair is getting wet with the snow, twigs and dirt and fallen leaves catching in between tresses, and it's too late to pick it up. He'd probably get tired of carrying it all bunched up in his arms long before they reach the city anyway. The cold bites the tip of his nose. No animals can be seen nearby, so Makkachin mostly pads quietly by his side.

Has the world really lost all of its excitement so soon? Has it run out of surprises for him? Perhaps he wasn't even missing out on much by staying in the tower after all.

"And by the way, I'm still not quite sold on this prince in a tower story, so don't you try anything funny or you might wake up at the bottom of a frozen lake."

Judging by the way she moves and the balance of her limbs, Victor has no doubt she's strong enough to throw him wherever she wants. "I'm not really a prince, but I promise I'll be on my best behavior." He chuckles for levity. "Makkachin promises too."

She frowns. "You better."

They continue walking in silence.

Victor knows he should be grateful. She could've simply sent him on his way alone, and she could ditch him at any time she wanted. She has no reason to trust him after all. However, Victor can tell her expression is sincere, even if it's also suspicious and guarded. In spite of her mistrust, she still offered to guide him to the city, and he has to appreciate it. He's been blessed with encountering kind people willing to go out of their way to help him realize his childish dream.

He just wishes he could have made this journey with Yuuri.

At the very least, he can try to prove he has no ill intentions; maybe then Minako won't feel the need to keep her guard up and the trip itself could become more enjoyable.

Even if that doesn't happen, he tells himself it'll all be worth it for the lights. Yuuri said the lights were beautiful, after all, and he wouldn't have lied about it. He has to stay positive.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of snow crunching under hurried steps coming from his back. Makkachin turns around immediately and woofs, excited.

Victor hears the voice before he can turn around and it vibrates in his bones.

 

 

"Victor!"

 

 

His breath catches.

 

 

 _Yuuri_.

 

 

The clouds clear away. The sunlight shines on Yuuri's warm brown eyes.

 

 

"Yuuri!" a smile already pulling at his cheeks. He spreads his arms wide without thinking.

The wind is knocked out of him when Yuuri collapses against Victor's chest, panting, his arms circling Victor's torso. Victor's heart hammers against his ribcage and he wonders if Yuuri can hear it.

Finally Yuuri pulls back and looks up at him. His face is beet red, from exertion or embarrassment, Victor doesn't know, but it makes his pale skin look alive and lovely. His fingers itch with the want to reach out and touch him.

"V-Victor!" Yuuri squeaks, clutching the fabric of the cape he got from Yuuri's father with trembling hands. "Victor, i… It was delicious! The katsudon you made was really delicious!"

Victor blinks in confusion for a moment . He feels heat glowing under his skin, his cheeks aflame as he takes Yuuri's words in. Yuuri liked what he cooked. He grins, pressing a finger to the corner of his growing smile. "It must have been for you to come all the way here just to tell me that." He says playfully, all of his earlier sorrow suddenly so unimportant it's almost funny.

Yuuri isn't pulls away from the embrace, takes a deep breath and looks straight into Victor's eyes. The determination in his gaze is smoldering.

"That's not the only thing I came to say."

Victor holds his breath. His heart booms in his chest, fearful and excited.

 

 

 

"Victor, I want to go with you to the lantern festival."

 

 

 

His eyes widen, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. His first instinct is to hug Yuuri and spin around wrapped in each other's arms, laughing, because this is everything he could've ever wanted.

Of course, he withholds that initial instinct before it can materialize the moment he remembers the reason Yuuri wasn't coming in the first place.

"But Yuuri—" he interjects, not sure of how to phrase it. It's impossible, really. He wants to tell Yuuri to come with him, but at the same time he wants to protect him from whatever it is that would put him at risk in the city.

"I  _want_  to," Yuuri emphasizes.

Victor swallows thickly. Yuuri looks so furiously determined, and his eyes are so big and beautiful Victor would happily bring down the moon and offer it so its loveliness could be reflected in Yuuri's deeply human chocolate eyes. But Yuuri's safety should,  _must_  come first and foremost.

"Are you sure about this? I don't want you to be in danger for my sake." Victor avoids Yuuri's eyes, hoping it'll help to quell the tiny spark of hope in his heart. Deep down, he can't help but want to be with Yuuri, hear more of his stories, unfold the mysteries of his expressions, the liveliness in his eyes and the gentleness in his smile. But he now knows that demanding such would be selfish and would put Yuuri in peril, and he doesn't want that.

From the corner of his eye he notices Yuuri take a step back and he turns to look at him without thinking. Yuuri's brown eyes glimmer with bold resolve.

"You decided to leave your tower, even knowing it could be dangerous outside, didn't you?"

Victor hadn't seen that one coming.

"I…" he pauses, trapped. "I guess so but…"  _but it's different_ , he wants to protest, because if  _Yuuri's_  in danger, if something happens to Yuuri and it's Victor's fault then he—

He doesn't get to finish that thought because it's like all the noise of the forest abruptly disappears so Yuuri's words are clear and loud enough to echo in Victor's chest.

 

 

 

 

"Do you regret it?"

 

 

 

 

Victor feels his heart thumping violently.

 

 

There is only one answer for that question.

He opens his mouth, but his throat is tight and no sound comes out of it. He looks into Yuuri's eyes, drinking in the fiery tenacity in them. They stand in silence, staring at each other. Victor could swear he can hear the reverberations of his own heartbeat in the silence of the forest. Or maybe it's Yuuri's.

Yuuri takes a step forward and clasps Victor's hands in his. His lips curl into the sweetest of smiles, and when he speaks, it's like all the silence of the forest bursts into music.

 

 

"Then please take care of me until the lantern festival."

 

 

Throat still dry, Victor nods once and squeezes Yuuri's hands, slowly feeling himself smile. As he pulls Yuuri into a hug, he briefly thinks he wouldn't mind if the lantern festival never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof it took me such a long time to get this chapter out. There were a lot of transitions that weren't working and it just was hard to figure out, I'm really sorry for the delay. I've had to work so much on this chapter I don't even know what to say about it orz. I just really wanted to show Yuuri realizing that he wants to be with Victor and maybe sprinkle a few more gratuitous canon references here and there because why not. I've also received a few comments about how Victor is OOC and i agree, it's been part of the struggle of writing this trying to preserve Victor's personality whilst also making him believable for someone that has been sheltered and alone all his life. It's a tug-o-war that I'm still working out, but I'm definitely taking the feedback into consideration.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and I'll be as always looking forward to your comments and thoughts. I'm way advanced in chapter 9, so hopefully it won't take too long to get it done :3 Thanks a lot for your patience! And as always, don't hesitate to hmu at my tumblr [@lia-nikiforov ](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com/post/162961218522/buy-lia-a-coffee), I always love hearing from you!


	9. and though many tried to hinder their journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri finally depart Yutopia, unaware of the people that may be trailing behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmu at my tumblr [@lia-nikiforov ](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com/post/162961218522/buy-lia-a-coffee), I always love hearing from you!

"Have you lost your mind?!"

Minako doesn't take it very well.

"The whole point of doing this was so you don't have to risk being caught by the royal guard, which the capital is swarmed by–and will be moreso for the festival!"

Strangely, now that he's come to terms with and vocalized what he wants, he doesn't feel deterred by her anger.

"I understand the risks, but I…" He remembers Mari's words from earlier, "I don't want to have any regrets." He already has enough of those to last him a lifetime.

Minako bites the inside of her cheek, visibly troubled. "Yuuri, please think about this properly. Don't throw away your life for a pair of pretty blue eyes." She turns to look at Victor briefly. "No offense."

Victor waves his hand, unfazed. "None taken!" he laughs, nervously. "You think my eyes are pretty?" he adds with a grin.

Minako rolls her eyes.

Yuuri smiles. It all seems so simple now that his head is clear.

"I want to go," he repeats, glancing over at Victor, who stands a few steps away, quiet with expectation. "I think there are things worth taking risks for." With every word he's more certain he's made the right choice. "If I wanted to be completely risk-free, I wouldn't be a winter dancer to begin with." He ruffles his own hair to make it messy and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Most people don't recognize me like this anyway," he says, pointing at his face. He remembers the first time Chris saw him wearing his glasses: he'd asked him if he was lost and if he needed help to find his mother. They'd already met the day before and Yuuri had been 18 at the time. Chris still teases him for his "baby face."

"I still don't think this is a great idea." Minako insists, but Yuuri knows from her expression that she's resigning herself to it.

"I'll be careful," he reassures her. "We'll go to Yu-chan's place as soon as we reach the city; she'll know good routes to avoid the patrols."

Victor bounces on his feet. "We won't draw attention to ourselves," he promises, grinning. Yuuri's missed that expression on him. It reinforces his conviction that his decision was the right one.

Minako isn't all that amused by Victor's offer. "There is absolutely no way  _you_  don't draw attention to yourself." She points at the long cascade of hair that trails long behind where they're standing, glimmering against the white snow. Sighing, she digs her fingers through her light brown hair, lips curled in a displeased frown. "Stay away from the road. You shouldn't have trouble getting there if you follow the stream, it'll become part of the Volkhov a few miles north and lead you straight to Lake Ilmen. This map shows some safe places along the way where you can spend the night and find provisions." She hands him a scroll of parchment. "Avoid other people as much as possible. I know you won't listen if I tell you to leave your dancing blades at home, but at least keep them hidden when you're not using them." She sighs again, her brows creased with worry. "Be careful, Yuuri."

In spite of her somber concerns, he finds himself smiling, heart thundering with excitement. "Thank you, Minako-sensei. I will."

She hums. "And you." She turns to Victor again, arms crossed over her chest. "You better take good care of Yuuri or getting trapped in your magical tower will be the least of your worries."

There's a subtle change in Victor's smile, something in it that Yuuri can't point out. It's less childishly excited and more handsomely elegant. "I'll prove myself worthy of Yuuri's time," he says, and Yuuri's cheeks burn. Then he makes a polite bow and in that moment, in spite of his messy hair and unassuming travel rags, he has the dignified poise of a prince.

"Fine. Get going, it's already pretty late."

 

* * *

 

The snow shimmers with the sunlight. Small rainbows blink in and out of Victor's field of vision, glimmering in the humidity of the air around them. Victor's heart soars. How can the world be so magical? How did he miss out on this for so long?

Suddenly, Makkachin barks and bounces ahead of them, into a shroud of bushes. Yuuri yelps and goes after him, stepping over the bushes in a hustle. They're both out of Victor's sight for a moment before he hears Yuuri's gasp.

"Victor! Victor, come here, quickly!"

Victor bolts, worried, stepping through the bushes, not minding how the branches tangle in his clothes and hair. "Yuuri, are you o—" He stumbles into a lump on the ground and looks down to find Yuuri holding Makkachin tightly against his chest.

He looks up at Victor and beams. "Look!" he says, pointing ahead.

Following the line of Yuuri's finger, Victor's eyes find a fluffy white ball of fur, almost invisible over the snow, with long pointy ears, bright red eyes and a tuft of cotton as a tail. His eyes widen.

"It's a rabbit!" he squeals, clapping excitedly and crouching down next to Yuuri.

The rabbit twitches, its ears moving sideways to catch the sound of Victor's voice. He's seen them so many times in books and heard about them in stories, but the real thing looks so different, so within reach. It breathes and sniffs and clacks its teeth and looks at them with curiosity; it's real and alive it's right  _there_. Victor wonders how its fur feels like.

"Yuuri, do you think I could…?" he whispers, eyes fixed on the tiny animal. Many of the storybooks he read in his childhood talked about the fluffiness of rabbits, but he's always wondered what exactly that means. Will it be like Makkachin's fur, soft but thick, occasionally coarse and tangled? Or will it be something completely different that he's never even imagined? He wants to know so many things.

Yuuri makes a sign to wait and reaches inside his satchel, his other hand still holding Makkachin. He pulls it out and opens his palm to show Victor a pile of red berries, crushed by the pressure, the red juice leaking through his fingers and painting a few drops of color into the snow. He pours half of them into Victor's hands and waits. Victor watches as Yuuri extends his arm towards the rabbit, slowly. The rabbit looks at them and pulls back on its hind legs, ready to flee. They stand unmoving in tense silence.

Slowly, the rabbit starts approaching them, hop by cautious hop. Makkachin squirms and Yuuri shushes him gently. Everything in the forest is so, so quiet, even the wind is holding its breath.

The rabbit hops until it's within reach of Yuuri's hand. It sniffs the food with suspicion, hesitates. Yuuri is eerily still. At last, the rabbit presses its muzzle to Yuuri's palm and starts munching.

It takes Victor's biggest effort to hold back the surprised squeal.

"Put your hand next to mine," Yuuri whispers, eyeing him briefly. Victor slowly brings his palm closer until it's pressed against the side of Yuuri's hand. The rabbit only flinches once but keeps eating.

Once Yuuri's palm is clean of the crushed berries, the rabbit stops and sniffs the air. Victor holds his breath. The animal looks at Victor's palm and, without further hesitation, continues eating.

Its nose is cold and wet on his skin, the hair of its muzzle and its whiskers tickle his palm as it munches, its cheeks moving in cute circles as it chews. Occasionally, its teeth scrape his hand, but it doesn't hurt. Victor giggles. When the berries are gone, the rabbit starts licking the sticky juice left on his palm, its tongue tiny and soft, barely noticeable. Victor is almost vibrating with excitement.

After it finishes eating, the rabbit pulls back and looks up at them, wiggling its little pink nose like it expects them to produce more food. Yuuri laughs and reaches forward to pet its head, cautiously. The rabbit stays put. Yuuri gives Victor a sign and he too, tentatively, touches the side of the rabbit's head with his fingerpad. He gasps. Its fur is soft and fluffy, like cotton, but not quite. It's thinner than Makkachin's and it slips through his fingers lightly. It's so different to everything he had imagined, the texture and softness so new. He ventures to touch the rabbit's ears and its puffy cheeks giddily.

Finally, the rabbit gets tired of their petting and squirms away. It waits a moment longer, perhaps hoping for more food still. Yuuri pours crushed seeds on the snow and the rabbit picks them up with its mouth and stores them in its cheeks. It twitches and gives them one last look before hopping away, quickly disappearing in the whiteness of the snow.

Victor looks down at his hands, only minimum traces of the berry juice left behind, then back at the spot where he'd last seen the rabbit before it hopped away.

"It was so  _soft_ …" he whispers in a daze, his blood thrumming in his veins.

He turns to glance at Yuuri and meets his warm brown eyes, a bright smile on his lips as he finally lets go of the struggling Makkachin. Victor feels his face grow warm.

Yuuri chuckles. "I think Makkachin  _did_  want to eat it, though."

Victor laughs.

 

* * *

 

"I can't believe we missed him by just a few hours."

"At least we know he wasn't caught by the guard, that's already a relief in itself."

"Well, yeah, I guess; but I wish he could've waited for us a little bit, just so we could see him at least."

"You heard what madame Minako said, he was in a rush to complete his heroic mission with this mysterious prince he rescued from a tower."

Yakov halts the horse on the spot. He looks over at the two men whose conversation he's been overhearing –mostly by the inevitability of their relative proximity than any actual intention to do so- and immediately recognizes their faces from the Wanted posters he has seen scattered over every village he has passed. Their conversation…

_There's no way_

"She can't be serious, though?" one of them continues, "I mean, she says this prince had hair so long it would drag on the ground for miles and miles? What kind of crazy story is that?"

 

 

Yakov's blood freezes.

 

 

_Vitya._

 

 

He tugs on the reins and makes the horse block the men's path.

"Gentlemen," he starts, trying to quell his urgency. "If you'll excuse my manners, I couldn't help overhearing your conversation."

The taller of the two, a blond man with broad shoulders, steps forward, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows quirked in suspicion.

"And what of it?" he asks simply, his tone neutral.

He thinks of the other young man he's seen performing with these two before, conspicuously absent. It's a long shot, but he has to take the chance if he wants to find Vitya as soon as possible.

"Would this friend you were talking about happen to be a man of your same…  _craft_?" he emphasizes the word, hoping his intent will come across. "Dark hair, of about this height… gets nervous often?" It has been a while since he had the time to watch any winter dancing, and it takes some scrambling through his memory to find any information that would lend his story some manner of credibility.

Immediately, the shorter man jumps at him, hissing.

"What do you want with Yuuri?" he snarls.

A mix of relief and urgency floods through his body. Perhaps letting him overhear that conversation was fate's way of guiding his path and aiding in his quest.

"My apologies, I did not mean to startle you. I have information concerning our  _mutual friend_  and I must pass it on to you immediately."

* * *

 

"Say, Yuuri, I've been thinking.." Victor muses out loud.

"Hm?" Yuuri looks up at him, his heart still thundering with the memory of Victor's blissful expression when he was petting the rabbit.

"Earlier, when you were dancing on the stream, why were you copying my dance?"

Yuuri wishes the earth would swallow him whole.

"W-well that was…" He lets out a nervous chuckle. "Uhm, oh! R-remember how that rabbit-?" he tries, hopelessly.

Victor frowns "Yuuuuuri," he groans. "Don't change the subject, I want to know!"

Yuuri bites his lower lip. "I just…" he looks up at the sky, grey with clouds that threaten a snowfall. "I don't know. It just happened, I guess?" He eyes Victor briefly and finds him looking thoroughly unconvinced. He remembers his promise to never lie to Victor again, and he swallows hard. "I remembered how amazing you looked doing it and I just… I've always been a mediocre winter dancer, but I thought maybe I could feel a little bit amazing if I danced like that too." His ears burn with shame.

Victor hums. "I don't think you're mediocre. Your mom was telling me how amazing you were, she looked very proud."

"But she's  _my mom_ , of course she'd think—" he pauses as he processes Victor's words. "Wait, you don't think I'm…"

"Not at all!" Victor proclaims. His expression is serious and thoughtful. Absentmindedly, he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "I think the way you danced that," he pauses, looking up at the sky, as if searching for the right words to say. "It was different. When I saw you, I felt like I understood something new about why I was dancing that to begin with."

Yuuri blushes. He doesn't know if he's supposed to take that as praise, but it feels like the best he could hope to receive.

Victor's expression brightens as he presses his index finger to the corner of his mouth. "Well, you did fall pretty hard on that jump, it was honestly a little bit funny once I was sure you weren't hurt."

This is a new, brutal side of Victor that Yuuri wasn't aware of and was completely unprepared for. He already feels he's been dealt a deadly blow.

"Had you ever tried jumping like that before?" Victor carries on, apparently unaware of Yuuri's mortification. There's a spring in his step, Yuuri notices.

Yuuri shakes his head. "I'd never gotten more than three rotations, didn't even think four were possible until I saw you."

Victor looks surprised. "Really?" Then he hums pensively again and then jolts. "So that was your first ever attempt?"

"Uh… yeah?"

Victor freezes on the spot, then bounces to stand in front of Yuuri, effectively blocking his path. Yuuri takes a cautious step back, careful not to step on Victor's hair.

"I know what I can do!" he announces excitedly.

Yuuri's a little afraid to ask.

"…Do?"

Victor nods excitedly. "I've been thinking of what I can do for you, since you're doing so much to help me."

"What? No!" He's doing this because he  _wants to_ , hadn't they already established that? "Victor, you don't have to—"

"Hush, hear me out." He places his finger (the same he used to touch the corner of his mouth, Yuuri's brain helpfully supplies) on Yuuri's lips to silence him. Which works perfectly because Yuuri loses his voice altogether with just that slight pressure. "I'll teach you everything I know about winter dancing. The stream has gotten wider, it's perfect for practice." He points at the stream they've been walking along, as per Minako's instructions. "You already dance like you're making music with your body. I can teach you how to make your jumps better and faster and to polish up your technique. You'll be able to do things no other winter dancer can. Then you won't feel mediocre anymore." His blue eyes sparkle with mischief and excitement. "I feel this is something only  _I_ can do. And I want to."

Yuuri's heart hammers against his chest.

"I… I…"

Victor is the most amazing winter dancer Yuuri has ever seen. If he could learn from him… if he could dance even a fraction as beautifully as Victor…

He's not quite aware of it in that moment, but he nods.

 

* * *

 

Yuri leaps down from his horse's back as soon as he reaches the edge of the town. They've been riding at a brisk pace since they left the city yesterday morning and Agape needs some rest. He knows there's an inn nearby anyway.

The inn by the name of Yutopia Katsuki is very close to the edge of the town; the back of it probably covers part of the stream that branches out from the river Volkhov that leads back to Novgorod. It's a quaint place, the building made of wood, standing two floors tall and covering a vast area. Even before crossing the outer yard's gate, Yuri can hear the boisterous chatter of the customers. It's a well-known inn and its food is particularly loved by the locals. Yuri can only hope he won't have to cause too big a disruption.

A man carrying a large casket –ostensibly holding some type of liquor- walks out the main gate and gasps when he spots him.

"Looking for a place to rest yourself and your horse, lad?" he asks with a congenial smile. "We have space in our stables and my wife's cooking is the best in town, if you'll forgive my bragging."

Yuri swallows thickly. "I guess I could use a good meal," he replies begrudgingly.

The man guides him to the stable before going elsewhere with his casket. Yuri leaves Agape tied and fed in a stall close to the entrance and takes a moment to pet her neck.

"Rest while we can," he says, feeding her an apple. He'll probably have to leave this place in a haste, there might not even be enough time for her to sleep.

Inside the main hall is as noisy as he had expected. The place is full to the brim with chattering patrons eating and drinking, laughing, yelling, some clearly inebriated and therefore even less restrained in the volume of their voices.

Yuri finds himself a spot near the counter, where he could possibly talk to the hostess. The smell of hot food wafting through the air make his stomach grumble, but he can't—

"Our specialty, katsudon, for the tired traveler!" A plump woman chirps, planting a bowl of food right in front of him.

"I didn't order anything," he snaps, wishing his stupid nose could stop inhaling that tantalizing scent.

The woman seems unfazed. "Don't worry, son, it's on the house. It's the least we can do to reward the valiant guards that protect our kingdom and keep our roads safe."

Yuri glances down at his own chest, finding the royal crest in gilded silver all over his torso. He forgot to take off his uniform.

"Fuck," he curses, wishing to slam his face on the table.  _Brilliant, just fucking brilliant_ , he thinks to himself,  _a genius soldier they call me and I forget to take off my uniform for a reconnaissance mission._

"Eat up or it will get cold. It's the last one we'll get out this week, so make good of it, yes?"

Defeated, Yuri groans. Well, the secrecy of his mission is a bust and this thing smells incredible, might as well.

"What do you mean last of the week?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow as he battles with the wooden sticks he's been provided with in lieu of a proper spoon.

The woman's smile turns a little concerned. "Oh, you know, taxes," she says, laying the palm of her hand on her cheek, "There's been an increase on the tax for owning animals, so we can't farm our own pigs anymore, and the prices of the meat have gone up, so our supply has become quite limited." She explains. "But that's not for a young lad like you to get concerned over, please enjoy your meal."

Yuri chews on his lower lip. It's not the first time he's heard of people struggling with the recent tax increases. But he's just a soldier, he tells himself, so it's none of his business, nor can he do anything about it anyway.

Brushing the thought aside, he focuses on the meal and finally manages to get a piece of meat into his mouth. He almost chokes in surprise when the flavors explode on his taste buds; the pork, rich and juicy, the bread, crunchy yet soft enough to feel it melt on his tongue. Before he knows it, he's swallowing what's left in the bowl, the mixture of the sticky white rice and the egg on top of the meat creating a heavenly combination. It might be the most delicious thing he's ever eaten (except for, maybe, his grandpa's pirozhki).

"My, my, you sure were starving. A young man like yourself ought to stay well fed," the woman says, her smile turning warm and motherly. It makes Yuri's stomach twist uncomfortably. "What is your name?" she asks.

Yuri sighs, already regretting that he finished the meal so fast. "Yuri. Plisetsky."

The woman lays her palm on her cheek, an interested twinkle in her brown eyes. "Ah, just like my son, his name is Yuuri, too."

Now Yuri's glad he's not eating anymore, because he might have choked. Is the woman entirely unaware of the situation, in spite of Yuri's uniform and the posters that can be found at every corner of the realm? Why would she willingly bring up that man in a conversation with a royal guard?

He shakes his head. This isn't the time to question it; rather, he should take advantage of the situation. He can't waste time feeling remorse, she has opened the door herself, it's Yuri's chance to make the most out of it.

"Really?" he asks with feigned interest "Would your son happen to be around? I've never met anyone with my same name." It's partially a lie, but he manages to make it sound more casual than forceful, which is a feat considering how much Mila has mocked him for his lack of subtlety and tact.

Her smile doesn't even twitch. "I'm afraid not, he hasn't come visiting in a few years. We miss him dearly."

It's the intonation that gives it away, and only to Yuri's sharp ears. She's lying. So she does know. Given how quickly they have serviced him, it's safe to assume her son is indeed not at the inn, but he's most likely been around recently. Perhaps it hasn't even been long since he left. That would align with Yuri's suspicions: that Yuuri Katsuki would retreat to his family home, but wouldn't stay long after the wanted posters reached town. He probably hasn't gotten too far. Maybe Yuri can still catch him with Agape if he leaves now—

"Wait, is that  _Captain_  Yuri Plisetsky? The famous prodigy of the royal guard?" another woman squeals, pointing at him. She's wearing an apron, so she must be a staff member too. "Oh! The other businesses will be so jealous when they hear we got to serve  _the_  Captain Plisetsky!"

Heads start turning. The boister of the crowd grows quiet.

 

_Oh no._

 

"Everyone, look! Captain Yuri Plisetsky is here!"

The crowd of patrons starts calling his name in excitement, and he quickly finds himself surrounded.

"Captain Plisetsky!"

"Our promised hero!"

"My daughter serves under your command! She always sends letters praising your heroic deeds!"

"How long does it take to get here on Agape, the fastest mare in the realm?"

"Captain, would you shake my hand, for good fortune?"

Yuri looks at the hostess. Her smile remains kind and complacent. Pleased.

_Crafty woman._

 

* * *

 

Yuuri glances around, his gaze shifting between the stream and the map. It's starting to get dark, so he looks for a clearing where he can see the first sparkling stars. With the dwindling light of twilight, he's quickly losing visibility of the old parchment.

His eyes spot a ridge over the river bank.

"Oh, we're here," he announces, folding the map back into his satchel.

"Here?" Victor halts his skipping on the snow and twirls around to beam at him.

"The shelter," Yuuri explains, pointing at the ridge. "There's a cave over there, we can spend the night and it'll be safer than building a tent with leaves and twigs." He steps cautiously over the frozen surface of the water and peeks into the cave opening. "It looks alright." He decides. "We just need to find fire—"

He bites his tongue and stumbles on his own feet as Victor zooms past him on the ice. He's wearing his dancing blades and laughing, his long hair flowing like a stream of silver behind him.

"V-Victor! What are you doing?!"

Victor just laughs more and spins in circles around Yuuri. "I said I'd teach you winter dancing. It's a perfect chance, we have so much good ice near our shelter! Get out your blades, I know you brought them."

Yuuri blushes, his mind racing to catch up with Victor's pace. His shoes are getting wet and his feet start to feel cold standing on the ice. A glare of red sunlight blinds him when it's reflected on the frozen surface. Victor looks ethereal like this, his hair falling past his shoulders, the colors of the sunset mixing with the stars in the bright blue of his eyes, a golden halo glowing around him. Yuuri briefly thinks this might be a dream after all.

He shakes the thought off as Victor comes out of a spin with a flourish of his hands.

"W-we can't. It's getting dark and it'll be dangerous to be on the ice."

Victor frowns. "Yuuuuri," he groans "How am I supposed to teach you anything if you keep making up excuses? I thought you wanted to learn to do things no other winter dancer could do!"

It's unfair how weak Yuuri's knees feel just from the sound of his name rolling off Victor's tongue.

"I never agreed to that!" He argues, weakly, because he knows he did. "And it really  _is_  dangerous to dance without daylight, if you can't see the ice you'll fall and hurt yourself!"

The golden glow of the sky has quickly faded to purple. Victor glides around Yuuri once, twice, arms crossed over his chest, his cheeks puffed. "Yuuuuuuri," he whines, displeased.

Yuuri doesn't budge. "We need to build a fire before it gets dark, there's no time," he says with finality, ignoring the pull in his chest that aches to get his blades and dance with Victor. He wonders what that would feel like, and his heart lurches at the thought.

Victor rolls his eyes and pulls away from Yuuri. The moon is already high on the darkening sky. It will be full in two days, but as it is, it already shines majestic over their heads.

Suddenly there's a sharp sound of blades cutting deep into the ice, and a shadow obstructs the light of the moon. Victor jumps, light as air, that unbelievably beautiful jump Yuuri stupidly tried to copy. And perhaps it's because the moon is right behind him and Yuuri's awfully tired, but for a moment, it looks like it's Victor himself who shines, like he's the moonlight itself.

The crisp sound of the landing breaks the spell. Victor glides backwards with his free leg stretched beautifully, the same pout adorning the curve of his lips, and he huffs, indignant.

Yuuri has to hold back the urge to laugh.  _So petty._

"You know you're supposed to be older than me," he sighs, smiling.

 

* * *

 

The sky is completely dark by the time Victor comes back to find Yuuri crouched by the entrance of the cave, mumbling to himself while Makkachin watches him with curiosity. He drops his load of branches and twigs right next to Yuuri's feet with a grunt.

"Is this enough," he states, still frowning. Why won't Yuuri dance with him again? Did he hate it the night they met? Victor had always practiced alone, maybe he didn't do a good job as a winter dance partner.

"Ah, actually I'm—" Yuuri replies, and before he finishes the sentence, there's a snap and a spark, and the pile of wood in front of him catches fire. "I'm done here." He finishes with a satisfied hum. Then he turns to look at Victor's pile of wood and nods. "Yeah, this should be enough to last the night, thanks."

Begrudgingly, Victor comes to realize he can't even stay mad at Yuuri for long.

He plops down to sit next to him, fascinated as ever by the crimson and golden reflection of the flames in Yuuri's brown eyes. Their warmth and glow truly remind Victor of the sun, even in the cold of night. He scoots a little closer, until their shoulders  _almost_  touch.

They sit quietly while Yuuri fixes a small quail over the flames and starts turning it slowly.

"I'd prefer to make rice or broth, but a pot would have taken too much space so I didn't bring one. It won't make for a very splendid meal, but it'll have to do." He says wistfully.

Victor rests his chin on his palms, the smell of the slowly roasting meat reaching his nostrils. "If Yuuri makes it, I'm sure it'll be delicious." He says absentmindedly.

Yuuri blushes lightly. "I-if you're hungry you can have some berries, it'll take a little while to get this done."

The atmosphere is cozy and pleasant with the crackling of the fire echoing around the cave and the warmth of its light dancing gold and red on the walls, the smell of the slowly cooking meat feels homely and familiar. Victor hums. Without thinking about it much, he digs through his satchel and finds a handful of berries wrapped in a soft blue cloth. He grabs a berry between his index and thumb, squeezing it lightly until a little bit of juice oozes out to his fingers, after which he quickly pops it inside his mouth.

He looks at Yuuri and finds his brown eyes still fixed on the fire, brows furrowed in concentration. Suddenly, he licks his pink lips, leaving them looking wet and glossy. Victor's heart thumps. He picks up another berry, his gaze never leaving Yuuri's mouth.

 

 

"Yuuri," he breathes, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice, "Say ah?"

 

 

"Huh?"

 

 

In a daring blink, he places the berry inside Yuuri's mouth. Yuuri gasps and clamps his lips shut, Victor's finger pressed softly over the curve of his bottom lip, smooth and just a little bit moist. Victor's heart stutters, his cheeks feel hot. They stare at each other in silence, as if something unspeakable were hanging over their heads.

 

 

Yuuri chews. His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

 

 

"Thanks," He says softly, and Victor feels his hot breath against his finger.

 

 

Victor blinks, stunned, and nods, finally letting his hand fall back to his side.

 

 

It takes a long time to calm the beating of his heart.

 

* * *

 

Makkachin is sleeping soundly by the fire when Yuuri's eyes start to feel heavy with exhaustion. He yawns, poking at the firewood to give more life to the dwindling flames.

"Yuuri, let's sleep together!"

The wheels in Yuuri's mind come to a screeching halt.

"Say what?"

Victor cocks his head, wearing a playful heart-shaped smile. "Sleep together. To stay warm."

Yuuri feels himself blush furiously, and he looks away to hide it.

"We can't!" he sputters, his face on fire. "Someone has to keep guard!"

"But Yuuri! It'd be an experience to get to know each other better!" Victor frowns, his lips curling downwards. "If there's any danger, Makkachin can protect us." he states, pointing at the sleeping dog.

Yuuri stares at the rise and fall of Makkachin's breathing. "Really," he says, slightly amused. " _He_  is going to protect us." He pokes Makkachin's belly, but the dog hardly reacts. "You're right, I feel so much safer now."

Victor rolls his eyes and grumbles something unintelligible under his breath. "Well, you're not keeping us super safe either if you're half-asleep."

Reluctantly, Yuuri admits he has a point. He doesn't want a repeat of what happened last night, falling asleep on the snow and leaving Victor virtually exposed to the weather, the beasts, even bandits. But what other option is there? It's not like he's going to let Vi—

"Why don't  _I_  keep watch for a little while so you can catch some sleep? It hardly seems fair that you stay up all night, and if you're too tired tomorrow, we won't be able to travel."

"You don't have to…" Yuuri groans, already feeling defeated.

"Nonsense, it's just staying awake and being alert for any strange noises, isn't it? Even I can do that."

Yuuri still wants to argue, but his mind is too tired to produce any decent comeback. He decides to be petty instead. "You tell me a story, then."

"Hm?"

He moves around the fire and lies down on the rock floor, next to where Makkachin sleeps. "Last night I told you a story, it's your turn now." He grabs his travel bag to pillow his head and snuggles closer to the dog's body heat, which immediately makes his eyes feel unbearably heavy.

"But you probably already know any story I could tell you. I just know the ones in the books." Victor replies. Yuuri watches as he hugs his knees and rests his chin on top of his folded arms, his blue eyes turning sad. His chest tightens.

"Then tell me a story about yourself," he mumbles, eyes half-closed. "You wanted us to get to know each other better, right?" Anything that will erase that sad expression from Victor's face.

It seems to work. "Like what?" Victor asks, eyebrows quirked with interest.

Yuuri hums in thought. Makkachin sniffs his hair, his cold wet nose tickling Yuuri's nape. There are so many strange things about Victor, so much he wants to know, so many things he doesn't understand. Victor is like a walking mystery, but one Yuuri feels doesn't even know how to unfold itself. And if he asks the wrong question, it might make Victor sad or upset again. It has to be something Victor would like to talk about like…

"How did you learn winter dancing?" He asks after a moment of consideration.

Victor perks, his eyes brightening with excitement.

"Oh! That's a good story, actually!" he chirps, and Yuuri's heart flutters. "You see, once upon a time, there was a little boy in a tower…"

Yuuri smiles at the melodic cheer in Victor's voice. When his eyes fall closed, his mind is filled with pictures of a small boy with long silver hair wobbling on the ice with a star-filled grin, spinning and laughing, "Look! I'm dancing!" And the little boy twirls and jumps and suddenly he's looking at Yuuri and he smiles, his small hands reaching towards Yuuri, and his blue eyes are galaxies as he says "Yuuri, my little star!"

 

* * *

 

"—ri! Yuuri!"

His arm is numb when he opens his eyes.

"Yuuri, wake up!"

He groans, dizzy.

"Phichit-kun, what-?"

"There's no time, Yuuri, you're in dan—Why is this one naked?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo this took longer than expected because turns out doing a Masters course is a bitch :'D I don't know if it's physically possible to die from homework, but I feel I'm gonna end up testing it out multiple times over the next two years :'D Also there was the earthquake that kind of fucked up a lot of things, mostly emotionally for me.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter! We're seeing a few plot elements starting to get complicated, and Yurio's getting closer than our heroes expect. Plus a few gratuitous moments for our heroes to get closer and closer :3
> 
> Happy YOI anniversary! It's kind of crazy that this show that has saved me multiple times is already a year old. Here's to many more years of celebrating Life and Love. And thanks for your support and encouragement!


	10. their bond only grew stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit and Chris come bearing worrisome news, but first Yuuri finds something new about Victor's prefered sleeping garments (or lack thereof)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! And terribly sorry for this delay! D: I just hope y'all haven't abandoned me yet and that you enjoy this super long chapter! And thanks for 200 kudos! Also small warning that Yuuri's thoughts get a teeny-tiny bit not-family-friendly for a moment there :^D

The world is a little blurry when Yuuri opens his eyes to the loud ring of Phichit's voice. He pats around the floor for his glasses. How long did he sleep? Definitely not enough.

"Why is this one naked?!"

_What?_

Yuuri finally manages to perch his glasses on top of his nose and gain some clarity. Phichit is crouched right in front of him, looking tired and disheveled, but his eyes are elsewhere. As he follows Phichit's line of sight, something about this scenario nags at the corner of his mind. Why are they in a cave? Why is Phichit yelling? It's not like they can have a show today, not when the last one was such a mess and—

He feels hot breath against the back of his neck, which almost makes him jump out of his skin. It's only until he sits up –suddenly feeling colder- and turns around that he remembers where he is, what he's doing, and most importantly, who he is traveling with.

 _Victor_ …

A momentary angst that had bubbled in his chest without his noticing, instantly dissipates. Victor sleeps soundly, his long hair fanning around him, twisted and tangled and full of twigs. He groans and grabs at the empty space in front of him. The space where Yuuri had been sleeping. His face burns.

"Well, Madame Minako wasn't lying, that's quite a lot of hair. I could certainly have some fun with that." A deep voice interjects with a hum.

"Chris!" Yuuri whips his head around to find his friend's clever green eyes. Phichit is crouched right to his side, but his expression is much less amused and more urgent. "What are you two doing here?" he asks, his voice low so as to not wake Victor. He glances around, noticing how the sky is still dark outside, and how the dying fire barely illuminates the inside of the cave. His eyes are still heavy, and for a moment he wonders if he's maybe still dreaming, because it doesn't make any sense for Phichit and Chris to be right here, right now, yet somehow they are.

"Yuuri, you're in grave danger." Phichit says, his voice more solemn than Yuuri has ever heard.

"I'm what? What on Earth are you talking about?"

Phichit's brow is pinched with worry. He grabs Yuuri's shoulders tightly.

"In  _danger_ , Yuuri listen to me. Your naked friend over there, he's bad news. He's lying to get you into the city so the royal guard can arrest you!" he says, throwing occasional glances at Victor, as if to make sure he wasn't listening.

In a different context, it might be a little funny how the more Phichit talks, the less anything makes sense.

"What? That's insane, Victor— I don't—"

Phichit sighs, his grasp on Yuuri's shoulder tightens and his voice goes barely above a whisper "He told you he'd been trapped all his life and that his only and greatest dream is to see the festival?"

"How do you know—"

"Yuuri, it's a trap! He's luring you into the city so he can bring you in to the royal guard and cash in on the reward! He's deceiving you!"

As he processes Phichit's words, the mounting urgency starts to dissipate. Yuuri cocks his head and quirks an eyebrow.

"Phichit, that sounds like the most ridiculous and less effective ruse ever." he says, his voice flat and unamused.

His friend bites his lower lip. "I know it sounds crazy, but isn't his story crazier? Yuuri, a man his age, trapped in a tower for twenty years? It's ridiculous!" he exclaims. "We have to get out of here now that he's asleep!" he grabs Yuuri's wrist and tries to tug him back to his feet, but Yuuri won't move.

"Phichit! Phichit, stop, wait!" Yuuri struggles to free his arm from his friend's grasp. "Listen to me, it's not- You don't know him he's… I was in the tower, Phichit, I saw it! I know Victor isn't lying." His head is starting to hurt. He would be tempted to believe he's dreaming, with how nonsensical this whole conversation has been. "Where did you even get this absurd idea from?"

"A friend of yours told me."

And it just keeps getting weirder.

"A friend?"

Phichit hums, crosses his arms over his chest and sits back down in front of him "He didn't say his name, but he knew us, knew we were winter dancers. He's an old man with a bald spot on his head. He…" He digs inside his pocket, and when he brings his hand out, he's holding a round object that shines golden and blue under the dim light of the fire. Yuuri inhales sharply. "He gave us this."

"It's my…" he reaches out tentatively and touches the object lightly with his index finger, grazing a soft blue petal and the familiar texture makes his eyes sting. He'd already given up all hopes of ever finding it again. He rubs his eyes to make sure he isn't hallucinating, and when he opens them again, it's still there.

"It's your very precious treasure, isn't it? I figured if you gave this to that man, you must trust him."

Yuuri hurries to snatch the bracelet from Phichit's hand and wrap it around his wrist. Its barely noticeable weight, the cool metal on his skin, everything is familiar and comforting and Yuuri feels whole again. Then he looks up at his friend, struggling to make sense out of everything he said.

"Phichit, I didn't give this to anyone. I lost it in the forest when we were running away from the guards. I thought… I thought I'd never see it again…"

Phichit's eyes widen "What do you mean you didn't give it to anyone?"

Yuuri doesn't like where this is going "It means what I said! I lost it when we were running away!"

"But then how did that old man get it?"

"I don't know, I…" an old man who knows about Victor –about the tower, about Victor's dream- and wants to drag him away from Yuuri. And had access to the bracelet Yuuri had lost at some point in the night they escaped from the royal guard. And what had Phichit said about a bald spot? Suddenly he remembers when he asked Victor about cutting his hair.

" _Cut? No! I never wanna end up like_ that _!"_

At the time, Yuuri hadn't understood what that meant, but now…

Oh no.

"Phichit-kun, that old man—"

"Yuuri?"

He yelps.

"Victor!"

Victor rubs his eyes and blinks rapidly, cocking his head in confusion. "What's going on?" he asks, struggling to push his long, tangled hair away from his face. Yuuri can't help but catch glimpses of pale skin, long bony limbs, taut pectoral muscles and—

"Why are you naked?!" he shrieks, his face burning.

"That's what I asked." Phichit supplies, helpfully.

Victor doesn't seem frazzled in the slightest. "It's a better way to preserve body heat when sleeping in such cold weather." He states, matter-of-factly "Also, I'm not naked, I'm wearing  _braies_ " he points at the diminutive piece of black cloth covering his loins.

"You got busy really fast, eh Yuuri?" Chris teases with a smirk that only helps in inflaming Yuuri's embarrassment.

"That's not what happened at all." He whines, burying his face in his palms. "And weren't  _you_  supposed to be keeping watch?" he accuses weakly, unable to actually look at Victor directly.

"Yuuri and Makkachin looked very comfy sleeping, I couldn't help myself." Victor replies cheerily. Yuuri envies how carefree he can be in spite of the circumstances. "So what's going on? What were you saying about an old man?

Yuuri swallows thickly. If he tells Victor that Yakov might be on their trail already, won't he feel guilty again and choose to return to his prison? He still hasn't figured out the whole story and he doesn't want to make Victor feel upset. But he also promised to never lie to Victor again. He looks down at the palms of his hands, troubled.

"Yuuri?"

The light of the fire dances in the blue of Victor's eyes, a healthy blush blooming on the tip of his nose. It's like every new sight he gets of Victor is inevitably breathtaking. Yuuri's heart stutters.

"I-it was just... a-a misunderstanding." His stomach churns with guilt the moment the words leave his mouth. "Don't worry about it." He can't bear to look at Victor's face, so he turns his gaze to Phichit, who now stares at him with curious interest. "Ah! I haven't introduced you properly!" He blurts, in a hurry to change topics, "Victor, these are my friends, Chris and Phichit. They're winter dancers too."

It works, Victor's interest immediately shifts to his friends. "I'm Victor!" He says cheerfully. "And this is Makkachin." He points at the poodle, who's still snoring by the fire. "It's a pleasure to meet Yuuri's friends" He recites with a congenial smile and practiced etiquette.

Phichit and Chris exchange confused glances and watch as Victor starts to get redressed. "I'll… admit he looks way less threatening than I expected." Phichit concedes, troubled.

"Completely harmless, is what I'd say." Chris adds, his eyes going from Yuuri, to Victor, then back to Yuuri, a shrewd spark in them.

"Well, I don't know about harmless," Victor says as he finishes wrapping himself in the travel coat he'd borrowed from Yuuri's father. "I'm very proficient at swordsmanship"

That's new.

"Swordsmanship? You know how to use a sword?" Yuuri asks, incredulous. "Wait, you  _own_  a sword?" how could a winter dancer of Victor's talent also be studied in sword wielding? And how had he acquired something as rare and expensive as an actual sword, trapped in the tower as he'd been?

Again, Victor seems completely unaware of how strange the things he says can sound. "Yakov taught me since I was little. Said it was important to defend myself. He got me my first long sword as a gift for my 16th birthday." He explains, like it's not a big deal at all.

Yakov again. It just doesn't add up, all the stories Victor tells and how he talks about that man, with the image of a person that would keep a boy captive and alone in a tower for 19 years, never letting him go out or have contact with any other person. The same man that was possibly already on their trail, most likely with the intent of dragging Victor back to his prison. He wishes there was a way to figure out what is truly going on, but he's afraid to breach the subject and accidentally upset Victor again.

"But if you own a sword, why didn't you bring it?" He asks instead. Having a sword with them and a person that could wield it would have been so reassuring, especially since they're traveling off the roads, where bandits and wild beasts lurk.

"It's too heavy." Victor replies with a shrug. "It's also really boring, I never liked the sword lessons."

The sudden tension leaves Yuuri's body with a heavy sigh, and he finds himself smiling. He can't help it, really. Not when Victor makes everything sound breezy and effortless. They've made it this far without a sword, they'll be alright without it for the rest of the journey.

Once he's finished stepping on his boots, Victor stands up next to Chris, and his eyes widen when he finds himself having to look up. "You're very tall." He observes, slightly puzzled. Victor is quite tall himself, so it must be a shock to meet someone even taller. "Why does your hair have two colors? It's the first time I see something like this." He doesn't wait for Chris to answer and plops down to sit closer to Phichit, eyes sparkling with interest. "I've never met anyone with this skin tone either, I'd only seen it in books! Yakov says it's not common in this part of the world, do you come from a different land? Oh, are you from Yuuri's homeland?" He bounces excitedly, shooting questions so fast Yuuri feels a little dizzy.

Phichit blinks, perplexed, but after a moment he beams. "Not from Yuuri's land, but the place I come from is also very far away!" He explains, mirroring Victor's excitement. "See, when I was little I heard stories of the Lost Prince from the Kingdom of the Endless Snow, who was the most gifted winter dancer of all the land, and how the people in this kingdom loved the ice, I just had to come and see it for myself! My dream is to go back home and show everyone how amazing winter dancing can be!

Yuuri smiles; Phichit's glee has always been contagious, his confidence in his dream, inspiring. Yuuri admires the way he can talk about it with the certainty that he can make it come true one day.

"That's a magnificent dream!" Victor cheers, smiling brightly. "I would love to see the kind of winter dance of your homeland someday."

Eyes wide with joy, Phichit leans forward, clasping Victor's hands in his. "Ohhhh, he  _gets_  it!" He squeals, delighted. "I'll be sure to show you some day!" He turns to look at Yuuri, grinning. "I take it all back, he's good!"

Yuuri's not sure why he blushes so he simply smiles back noncomittally, delighted by the beautiful curve of Victor's mouth.

"What about you, Yuuri?"

"Huh?"

When he blinks, Victor is staring at him, buzzing with anticipation.

"Your dream, Yuuri, what is it?"

"My... dream?" He parrots, feeling like an idiot.

Victor nods. "You've been helping me to realize my dream, but I haven't even asked for yours, that's terribly rude of me," he explains "If it's Yuuri, it must be a wonderful dream too." He states with conviction.

Yuuri's cheeks burn and he thinks of his long-time fantasy of dancing with the Lost Prince. It's a completely impossible, selfish and childish dream, nothing like Phichit's or Victor's.

"Ohoho, Yuuri's actually very shy, I don't think he'll want to tell you." Phichit intervenes with a mischievous smirk. "But I could give you that information for the right price..."

"Phichit-kun, no!" Yuuri screeches, burning with shame.

Victor looks at him quizically. "Why not?"

"I-it's just, uh... it's really silly, it's not even worth mentioning."

"But Yuuuuuri, I wanna knooooow" Victor whines, pursing his lower lip. Is it fair that Yuuri feels so compelled by that pouting face?

"I, uhm..." He fidgets with his fingers nervously, "I've always wanted to... to d-dance with the L-lost Prince." He blurts, shutting his eyes tight in embarrassment. "I told you it was silly." He laughs nervously after a moment of silence, hiding his face in his palms.

"I was just gonna say something about giant katsudon." Phichit mutters with a little giggle.

Before Yuuri can murder his best friend or run off to the hills never to be seen again (or both), he notices Victor hasn't said anything. He drops his hands from his face and looks up to find an unreadable expression on Victor's face. When he notices he's being watched, Victor jolts and quickly shows a small, gentle smile as he reaches to grab Yuuri's hands in his.

"It's not silly. It's a beautiful dream, Yuuri. I hope you'll find him someday."

Yuuri feels warmth spread over his cheeks, but it's quickly washed away the moment he sees the sadness crinkling the corners of Victor's eyes.

* * *

Of course. Yuuri doesn't just want  _any_  prince. He wants  _the_  Lost Prince from his story. No wonder he doesn't want to dance with Victor, he surely can't compare to someone Phichit called "the most gifted winter dancer in the land." It means his efforts to act even a little prince-like were pointless to begin with, because he can never fulfill Yuuri's expectations.

 

" _Take care of me until the lantern festival."_

 

If he thinks about it, it was Yuuri who preemptively put an end-date to their time together. Victor was just getting ahead of himself hoping for more. More time, more laughter, more surprises, more dancing. It was obvious Yuuri had a life before he stumbled upon Victor and his childish wishes: friends, family, a home, his own dreams, things he'll want to go back to when this is all over. Their little adventure was never meant to last forever.

He curls his fingers, squeezing Yuuri's hands lightly. His chest tightens with dread. Only two more days and it'll be the end of the road. Yuuri will continue looking for his Lost Prince, the one who is truly worthy of dancing with him, and Victor will go back to his solitary tower and finally fulfill Yakov's wish of never asking to go outside again.

* * *

"Victor?"

The desolation in Victor's expression breaks his heart. Did he say something wrong? How can he fix this?

"Victor, are you-"

"Oh, what about you, Chris, do you have a dream?" Victor turns away from Yuuri to look up at Chris, his lips upturned in a loathsome fake smile.

Chris doesn't seem to notice it. He hums for a moment, cupping his chin with his fingers. "Well... when I was a very young boy I once saw the Prince's winter dance, you know, before he got lost. Actually, I don't remember a lot about how he danced, but ever since then I always wanted to become a winter dancer myself. I guess you could say I already realized my dream in that sense. Though I'd like to see the prohibition lifted so we could perform freely again. Being an outlaw doesn't quite go with my beauty routine. And I want to be able to go back home to my husband and our Cherie." he sighs, turning melancholic.

"Cherie's his cat." Phichit whispers at Victor. "She's very mean."

Victor doesn't seem to catch that explanation. "Prohibition?"

Phichit looks at him with raised eyebrows "You don't know about the prohibition on winter dancing? Have you been living under a rock?"

"In an isolated tower, actually." Victor huffs. "Why would there be a prohibition on winter dancing? It's such a beautiful thing!"

"Well, you know the story, the Lost Prince was supposed to be the most gifted dancer in the realm. After he went missing, the Regent claimed commonfolk dancing was disrespectful to his memory, a bastardization of an art the Prince had made most beautiful." Phichit explains, probably delighted to have someone to enlighten with his gossips. "But the people love winter dancing and the prohibition wasn't really enforced for a very long time. It's only recently that it got stricter, I've heard dancers have been thrown into dungeons, and there's been talk about the Regent wanting to dole out harsher punishments." He scoots closer to Victor and cups his hands over his mouth to whisper. "There are some rumors that the Regent is jealous of the Lost Prince, who is so beloved by the people even though he's been missing for so long, they still hope he will return one day and reclaim his throne. The rumor says the Regent hopes that by forbidding winter dancing, the people will forget about the Prince and he will be able to call himself the rightful King."

"Phichit-kun!" Yuuri squeaks "That's a really dangerous thing to say! What if someone heard you?"

Phichit frowns. "Who's gonna tell on me, the dog?" He points at the sleeping Makkachin, who rolls over to lie face down, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge their conversation. "Anyway, Yuuri, are you telling me you didn't tell your naked pal that you were a wanted criminal before you rescued him from his tower?"

"Yuuri's not a criminal." Victor interjects with conviction. Then he turns to look at Yuuri, concern in his eyes. "Is this the reason you shouldn't go to the capital?"

Yuuri nods. He's about to say something to reassure Victor of his determination to see this journey through, but Phichit interrupts him before he can open his mouth.

"That reminds me!" He starts browsing through his satchel, mischief sparking his brown eyes alight. He pulls a stack of folded papers out and hands it over to Yuuri. "These are flying everywhere these days."

It's not even necessary to inspect the pages carefully. As soon as he unfolds them, it's all perfectly clear. Their name and faces, a prize in silver coins, bold red letters. It's terribly straightforward. With horror, Yuuri realizes it might not be long before his parents see these.

"This is terrible! Everyone's gonna—"

"I know!" Phichit exclaims, frowning with indignation "Such a small prize on us? Silver coins! The Regent thinks we're not even worth any gold! This is offensive!"

"That's what bothers you?" Chris asks, horrified, and for a brief, absurd moment, Yuuri's grateful someone else can be the voice of reason in this situation. "Look at this portrait, it's atrocious! What kind of untalented hack painted this? I'm way more handsome than this monstrosity, isn't that right, Yuuri?"

Yuuri plants his face in his palms, distraught.

"Show me!" Victor chirps with curiosity, snatching the posters from Yuuri's hands. He hums as he goes through them. "I do think Chris looks more handsome in real life." He states.

"Thank you. Finally someone understands." Chris sighs melodramatically. "I like this one,Yuuri, can we keep him?"

Yuuri doesn't pay him a lot of mind, more preoccupied with ignoring the unpleasant feeling coiling in his gut. He knows Chris is almost painfully attractive, of course Victor would notice it. From the beginning, he was aware that once Victor's world broadened, Yuuri himself would seem less and less interesting, moreso when compared to people like Phichit and Chris who shone so brightly. He just wasn't ready to come to terms with it yet.

"Agreed, he's good! A friend of Yuuri's is a friend of mine too!" Phichit adds, grinning widely, throwing an arm around Victor's shoulders.

Victor's eyes widen. "I'm Yuuri's friend?"

The ugly feeling starts fading away. Yuuri hasn't really thought about it until now. Victor is…  _Victor_. A weird, beautiful man that loves poodles and winter dances like he was born doing it and is kind and naïve and a little bit too touchy, who has the loveliest heart-shaped smile Yuuri's ever seen. Just Victor. The idea of labeling him, of giving a name to whatever bond they shared, had never crossed his mind before, never seemed it was necessary. He's not sure it is, even now.

"What  _are_  you two then?" Phichit asks, his grin turning impish, and knowing his friend, Yuuri already dreads to hear where this conversation is heading.

 

 

Victor doesn't miss a beat.

 

 

 

 

"Yuuri's the person who changed my life."

 

 

 

 

 

Yuuri's breath hitches.

Has the fire blazed out of control or is he just burning on the inside, he doesn't know.

His heart thumps wildly in his chest and butterflies flutter in his stomach.

 

_Oh._

 

He's really happy.

 

"But I would like to be friends with you." Victor continues, addressing Chris and Phichit. "I've never had friends apart from Makkachin, but you sound like you're really good friends of Yuuri. I'd be happy to be friends with Yuuri's friends."

Chris gasps in surprise. "You've never had any friends at all?"

"Makkachin." Victor repeats, pointing at the dog, who briefly moved from where he was sleeping to rest his head on Victor's lap.

It's not something that Yuuri had thought about, but he should've figured it out right away; that Victor obviously never had any friends. With each day, it's like he's finding out more and more things that Victor's missed out on, and it makes him profoundly sad. It's admirable that Victor can have such a cheerful and kind disposition in spite of how little human contact he's experienced in his life.

"Inconceivable!" Chris proclaims, hands on his hips. "We'll definitely be your friends then." He declares with a grin.

"Thank you!" Victor's smile takes the shape of a heart, and it is so radiant it outshines the fire. Yuuri feels guilty for that twinge of jealousy he felt earlier. Victor should get to meet as many people and see as many wonderful things as he can, even if that means Yuuri will lose what little makes him special in Victor's eyes.

"So, my new friends, why does Yuuri's poster say 'Eros'?"

_Oh no._

Victor's gaze shifts between Chris and Phichit as he waves the page he holds, and only then Yuuri notices the bold black letters at the bottom. Maybe he should have inspected it more closely before letting Victor grab it. His family's going to see that. Why can he never catch a break?

"Ahaha, that's a very curious story, actually," Phichit proclaims, his eyes sparkling with malice. "Do you know what the name Eros means?"

"It was the name of Love in the ancient pagan myths. Ovid wrote about his mischiefs, and Platonicus of his passions for Psyche." Victor replies with confidence. "I have read a lot of books about it."

"'A lot of books'? Jesus, what kind of riches were you hiding in that mysterious tower of yours? I've seen like three books in my entire life!" Phichit exclaims.

"Yakov always brings them for me." Victor shrugs.

It's another thing Yuuri hadn't really thought about, but he should've, really. He saw the shelves, stacked with tomes of all sizes and colors. Books are extremely prized commodities. In his family home, they barely own a handful of them, and two were just a compilation of family recipes passed down for generations and eventually haphazardly stitched together so they wouldn't get lost. When he was young and visited the capital for the lantern festival, he'd seen royal guards distributing small copies of the Tale of the Lost Prince, and many families didn't own any other book apart from that one. Books take a long time to make and not a lot of people know how to make them; they are rare and expensive, yet Victor has so many of them. This Yakov person seemed to have done everything in his power to give Victor everything he could possibly want, but for what purpose? What could he ever have to gain by keeping Victor locked away in his tower? The more he thinks about it, the less it makes sense.

"So, about this Eros thing…" Victor presses, causing Yuuri's shame to burst to the front of his mind, pushing every other rumination aside.

"Right, right. He was a god that inspired passion and desire. His golden arrow was said to inflame the hearts of gods and men." Phichit explains, his grin growing.

Yuuri wishes with all his heart that the earth would swallow him whole.

"Well, since Yuuri's always been a little bit shy and never wanted to give away his name when we performed for an audience, the people started calling him that. I guess he just inspires that kind of feeling." Phichit explains, his face now split by his devilish grin.

"Th-that's not… I'm nothing like that!" Yuuri groans, hiding his face in his palms. Honestly, he could bet this fake name thing is an elaborate prank started by Phichit years ago, because there is no way normal people would think a clumsy, dime-a-dozen winter dancer like Yuuri could possess any sort of sensuality. "I have no idea of why people would think something like that."

Softly, his hands are pulled away from his face. Fingers tilt his chin upwards and he finds Victor's deep blue eyes, his lips curled in a mysterious smile.

 

"I do." His voice drops, barely above a whisper "I think Yuuri has an alluring side that you're not aware of, yourself. I'd love to see it soon." The ghost of his breath tickles Yuuri's nose. His thumb presses lightly against Yuuri's bottom lip.

 

Yuuri's heart thunders. His face burns where Victor touches him. Victor inundates his field of vision completely, a curtain of silver isolating them from the rest of the world. He swallows thickly, unable to construct any coherent thought. What does Victor know about Love?

 

 

(Is it wrong to want him?)

 

 

How much does he understand about desire, passion, eroticism? Alone in that tower for so many years, what are the odds that the only fleshly delights he knows are those he could provide for himself?

 

(It's not that Yuuri knows any, either, but the thought of exploring them together is suddenly quite tantalizing)

 

He's keenly aware of the pad of Victor's thumb on his bottom lip, how it traces from corner to corner, slowly, his eyes dark and burning as if they could peer into Yuuri's soul. Can Victor feel how hard Yuuri's heart is beating through that minimal point of contact?

 

Unable to hold the heaviness of Victor's scorching stare, Yuuri's gaze wanders until he finds Victor's mouth, the one that can shape into the most beautiful smiles in the world. His lips are pink, a little chapped by the cold. It suddenly feels unfair that Yuuri has never touched Victor's lips, when Victor has touched Yuuri's quite plenty.

 

 

_Would it be wrong to kiss him?_

 

 

Yuuri's never kissed anyone. Probably, neither has Victor. He's so close, it would be so easy… And if it was bad, neither of them would know better. If he could just—

 

 

 

Makkachin shrieks loudly. The spell is broken

* * *

Yuuri jolts and pulls back. Victor winces and looks down to see he'd leaned forward so much he'd been squeezing Makkachin, who had still been resting his head on his lap.

He blinks, confused. He really thought Yuuri was going to kiss him just now. It's when the disappointment hits him that he realizes he'd wanted him to do it. His heart stutters and his cheeks feel warm.

_So what are you two?_

What would they be if Yuuri kissed him?

In the fairytales, when the young gentleman or maiden is rescued and kisses the hero, it was called a true love's kiss, and the fae would say it was the most powerful magic in the world, that it could break any spell. If there is no spell to break, would it still be a true love's kiss?

Does he love Yuuri?

"Uh, ah… We-we're out of firewood—I'm… I'm gonna go get more."

The tips of Yuuri's ears are burning red as he drapes his cloak over his shoulders. He looks cute.

"I'll go with you!" Victor volunteers, enthusiastically. Maybe he can ask if Yuuri wanted to kiss him too.

Yuuri squeaks and shakes his head vigorously. "N-n-no, you don't have to! You went earlier, it's my turn now, uh… Ph-phichit's coming with me." His whole face is flushed beet red."I-it won't take long, it's, ah, almost dawn anyway." He adds, dragging Phichit by his sleeve.

Victor's shoulders sag, watching Yuuri exit the cave, Phichit quickly standing on his own feet to join him and draw an arm around his shoulders. His stomach twists unpleasantly, like it does every time he sees Yuuri walk away from him.

"So…" Chris drawls, sitting next to him as soon as Yuuri and Phichit are out of sight. "You're really into our Yuuri, aren't you?" he inquires, draping an arm across Victor's back.

When Victor finally stops looking at the spot where Yuuri disappeared, he turns to Chris to find his green eyes sparkling with mischief, his lips curled in a playful, knowing smirk. He's not sure he understands all the nuances to that question.

What does "being into" Yuuri mean? Every time he's tried to think about his feelings for Yuuri, all he gets is confusion. It's like a growing cluster of diffuse emotions that he can't name precisely.

Is he in love with Yuuri?

When Ovid wrote about Love, he also wrote about many different types of love. But how can Victor know what love is when he's had so few opportunities to experience it. He loves Makkachin and he loves Yakov, as family –even though Yakov always insists that they're not related-. What he feels for Yuuri is different though. But it doesn't seem to fall into any of the other ancient pagan categories either. It's a warm, riveting feeling, utterly thrilling and overwhelming. The only thing he knows for certain is that he wants to stay by Yuuri's side. That he wants to hear Yuuri's laughter and feel the warmth of his hands, dance with him again and again, hold him close and safe, make him happy, show him as many wonderful surprises as Yuuri has given him.

His eyes are drawn to the dying flames and he remembers how they danced in the depths of Yuuri's brown eyes. And he thinks of how bright and alive he's felt since Yuuri first walked into his tower. How he never wants to lose this feeling.

"Yes." He hears himself say, and the moment the word leaves his lips, he smiles. Perhaps it's even better that he can't name it, to let that feeling grow and fly freely without the constraints of words and meanings. It doesn't change the fact that it exists, that it's there, within him, constantly evolving. Absentmindedly, he presses his palms together, his joined fingers touching his lips. Flowers bloom and butterflies flutter over his body, inside his heart. "Yes, I am."

* * *

"So… you and that guy, huh?" Phichit comments, a teasing smirk on his lips.

Yuuri almost trips over himself. "What? N-n-no! Victor is… it's not like that!"

Phichit quirks an eyebrow, amused. "Oh, come on, Yuuri, you know you can't lie to me. I won't judge you, even if you choose to naked-sleep with a guy that has more hair than all your family combined, as long as that makes you happy." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

It's still not too late to be swallowed by the ground. Or combust on the spot. Both, Yuuri hopes.

"That's why I'm telling you, it's nothing like that!" he shrieks ashamed beyond what he can stand. "Victor and I aren't… I'm just helping him get to the capital, I didn't even know he slept naked!"

He almost bumps into Phichit, who halts frozen and whips his head around. "You're telling me you haven't exchanged promises of eternal fidelity and inflamed amorous poetries with the tower boy?"

"Of course not!"

Phichit's eyes widen. "Oh no, Yuuri, you haven't even told him you like him, have you?"

"No! Why would I do that?!"

His friend sighs, like he's resigned. "If you could see the way you look at him, you wouldn't be asking me that question." He says with a sympathetic smile. "I honestly thought you were gonna kiss him just now."

Yuuri swallows thickly. His lower lip tingles right where Victor had touched him.

_I thought so too._

He cups his hands over his mouth and inhales sharply, surprised by his own thoughts.

"I couldn't just… kissing him would be… I-I just met him three days ago…" the argues, weakly.

Phichit lays his hand on Yuuri's shoulder. "That's how all the best love stories go." He grins. He always makes things sound so much easier than they actually are, and Yuuri almost feels tempted to consider it. Being with Victor. Staying with him after the festival. Showing him even more of all the wonders that he's missed of the world.

A long time ago, he met a pair of winter dancers who told the story of their love when they performed. He remembers how they danced together, how they held hands and embraced each other on the ice, how moved he had been by the sincerity of the feelings they portrayed. Could he do the same thing with Victor? His mind drifts to Victor's beautiful dance, the one he tried to copy, how lonely it looked when he danced it in the darkness of the tower. But what if they danced it together? He can almost picture it in his mind, how they would move, how they could hold each other, what Victor's smile would look like. The thought makes his heart thump.

"I… It doesn't make sense, Phichit. I've never… never wanted to hold on to anyone, not like this. But with Victor I just… I-I don't want to let go." His blood thrums as he speaks the words. "But I don't know anything about him!" Just that he loves his poodle and hates loneliness, that he's more fragile and scared than he's willing to let on, yet he's kinder than most people could be expected to be, that he has read more books than any person should even be able to see in their lifetime, that he dreams of seeing the floating lanterns and looks at the snow like it's made of magic and can find something wonderful in the smallest things most would take for granted.

"That's what makes it an adventure, Yuuri!" Phichit declares, hands on his hips. "How boring it would all be if you knew everything about him."

Yuuri doesn't know how to respond to that, so they continue gathering firewood in silence. Phichit's words continue to spin around in his head. It's true that these days with Victor have been full of adventures and surprises, but isn't that normal, given the circumstances? Won't the sparkling bliss and wonder eventually fade away? What would they talk about if they stayed together? (Maybe about winter dancing; and they could dance together. Maybe they could talk about poodles and play with Makkachin in the flowers, once spring comes. And maybe they could cook together in his mother's kitchen, and he could show Victor so many things about his homeland. And maybe they could travel and discover new things, things that even Yuuri has never known about. And then, maybe, even after all the new things became old, they'd still somehow find themselves laughing together).

His thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Phichit, who suddenly halts in front of him.

"Wha—"

Phichit shushes him, completely still, his posture guarded. Yuuri's eyes roam around and he catches the light of a fire coming from deeper in the woods. He squints in the direction of the fire and sees a figure of a man, short in height; his posture speaks of exhaustion, of carrying a heavy burden over his shoulders, but his steps give off the feeling of an unyielding determination. Phichit gasps and steps back cautiously, then suddenly yanks Yuuri until they're both hiding behind a tree, away from the man's gaze.

"Yuuri! That's the man! The one who gave us your bracelet!" He whispers, eyes wide.

He understands instantly, and his heart sinks. Yakov. No other explanation makes sense. This man must be Victor's perennial jailor, the one that is so mysterious and incomprehensible. And Yuuri doesn't have time to try to figure him out. If he sees them, it could all be over.

They exchange a single glance and a nod before sprinting away from the tree, dropping all the wood they had collected. Yuuri's grateful that Phichit seems to have understood without having to explain the whole thing. His heart booms with frantic urgency, his eyes searching for their cave, panicking even more the moment he sees the faint light of the dying fire in the distance. If the man with the torch walks two or three meters north from where Yuuri last saw him, he could have a perfect view of their fire. His legs scream as he forces them to run faster.

They can hear roaring laughter long before they reach the cave. As soon as he sets foot inside, he's pushed back towards the lake, the back of his head hitting the frozen surface with a dull thud.

"Yuuri!"

He opens his eyes to find Victor on top of him, cheeks vibrant crimson, eyes glazed and wearing a droopy smile…and nothing else.

"Why are you naked again?!" he screeches, suddenly all other thoughts wiped clean from his mind as he scrambles to sit back up. Before he manages to push Victor's weight completely off him, he catches a whiff of a familiar smell, and he furrows his brows. "Chris! What did you give him?!"

Chris shrugs noncomitally, he too is a little flushed, but looks far more composed than Victor, whose body moves like jelly whenever Yuuri tries to get him back to his feet. "Just a lil' bit of liquid courage" He says, waving a jug that obviously contains some of his foul tasting liquor. "Hey, with this dying fire we needed something to stay warm."

Yuuri rolls his eyes. Chris shouldn't be allowed to get his nasty beverages anywhere near other human beings.

"Yuuuuri, let's go to the onseeeeen, it felt so gooood." Victor drawls, leaning all of his body against Yuuri's back, arms draped around Yuuri's shoulders. It's all Yuuri can do to keep from falling over.

"Stop giving people that thing, you only cause disasters." He admonishes, trying to drag Victor to sit down again, but before he can succeed at it, Phichit tugs at his sleeve with urgency.

"Yuuri!" he squawks, pointing at the direction of the woods. Yuuri squints and sees, way far in the distance, the slightest glimmer of the torch. His blood freezes as he remembers why they came in such a hurry.

"Victor, get dressed, we have to get out of here!" He whispers, frantically stepping over the fire to make it die out. Is it too late? Have they been discovered?

"Eh? But Chris was tellin' me cute stories about… about Yuuri! Very cute!" Victor replies, hiccupping mid-sentence.

The three of them scramble to get Victor back into his clothes and drag him out of the cave whilst explaining the situation to Chris in hushed whispers. Makkachin whines but follows them, confused by the ruckus. From the corner of his eye, Yuuri sees the distant torch fire, slightly closer than before, but not heading directly towards them. They haven't been caught yet.

"Yuuri? Why're we runnin'? It's sooooo dark!"

He covers Victor's mouth with his hand to keep him from talking. They stumble into the forest, away from the river. It's too dark and the trees are so thick not a single ray of moonlight makes it through the foliage, making it impossible to tell where they are going. This goes against even the most basic rules of survival, but Yuuri can't risk getting caught. He just hopes they'll be able to find their way back to the river once the sun rises.

Makkachin woofs loudly and Yuuri's heart jumps to the base of his throat. He turns around, fearing the man might have recognized the dog's bark, but all he finds is darkness. Even with his glasses on, he can hardly make out the shadows of the trees and the shape of Makkachin standing next to him. And there's Victor's weight leaning heavily on his. A winter gale howls by and chills him to the bone.

Chris and Phichit aren't there.

Yuuri freezes, unsure of what he should do. His first instinct is to go back and find his friends, but that would be too dangerous in this darkness and carrying Victor's dead weight. Rationally, he knows the old man should pose no physical threat to his friends; just from the brief glance he got of him he could tell he was shorter than Phichit and looked terribly tired. He knows his friends are resourceful and will likely have no problem finding their way back to wherever they'd been hiding these past few days. But he can't help worrying; losing sight of them for the second time in such a short time and not knowing where they are makes it impossible not to feel anxious. Victor whines about his head hurting and Yuuri realizes he can't risk getting lost even further if he tries to go back to find his friends. They'll meet again, sooner rather than later.

His mind is made.

"Victor, do you think you can run?"

It's a little amazing, that even in this inscrutable darkness, he can tell how wide Victor's sloppy grin is. "I think I could fly!" he exclaims cheerily, hiccupping again. He's going to have a very serious talk with Chris about those hellish spirits he enjoys.

Resigned, Yuuri continues to drag Victor away from where he last saw the fire, as quietly and quickly as possible, occasionally calling Makkachin's name to make sure the poodle wouldn't get lost too. He tries to keep his ears perked to catch any suspicious noise, but the natural sounds of the forest night make it difficult.

Leaves rustle violently and Yuuri catches an orange glow from the corner of his eye. His blood rushes and he bolts into a run again, all but completely lifting Victor off the ground. He's not sure in which direction they're going or how far they've gotten, his nose and ears hurt from the cold wind and his lungs burn. His foot catches on something and he loses his balance. He tries to break the fall with his free hand and feels his palm sting sharply before crashing face first on the ground.

"Yuuri? Yuuri!" Victor shakes his shoulder insistently. "Are you alright?"

When he opens his eyes he finds Victor wearing a concerned (and sobered up) expression. He can make him out clearly now that the orange light of dawn has completely inundated the forest. When he realizes the light he ran from was actually the sunrise, he groans pitifully.

"I'm fine…" he mutters, humiliated by his inexcusable panicking.

"What happened? My memory's a little fuzzy, why were we running away? Where are Chris and Phichit? Did the royal guard find us?"

It would've been terribly easy to lie and say yes, if only to hide the real reason for their spontaneous escape, but he doesn't want Victor to worry anymore about the prospect of getting him arrested if they continue their quest for the capital.

"N-nothing, don't worry. I just thought we needed to get going so we'd make it on time for the fes—" he doesn't even finish his sentence, cutting himself off as he watches Victor's worried expression morph into disappointment, followed by anger.

"You're lying." He says, curtly. "Stop treating me like a child; I'm  _older_  than you! I'm sick of people lying to me!" his hands curl into fists and he looks away from Yuuri, his shoulders tense.

Yuuri's heart plummets. How could he ever convince himself that lying was the right solution? He'd told himself he was doing this to make Victor happy, but he should've known better. He should've realized that lying to keep Victor by his side was the exact same thing his captor had been doing for nineteen years.

* * *

Phichit leans against a thick tree, pearls of sweat sliding down his forehead. He wipes them away with his sleeve, panting.

"I can't believe we lost him again." He groans. "How  _did_  we lose him? He's carrying a guy that leaves a 30 foot trail behind him!"

Chris shrugs, unhelpfully. "We  _could_  try to catch up with them, we know they're headed to Novgorod."

The light of dawn filters through the branches. Phichit crosses his arms over his chest, frustrated. "If we go to the capital and the guards spot us, they'll be on higher alert and more likely to find Yuuri." He pushes himself away from the tree and looks around where they're standing, squinting for any sign of movement, but to no avail. He sighs in defeat.

"Cheer up, my friend, we'll surely meet our Yuuri again after the festival passes! And if all goes right, we might find ourselves with a new member in our troupe." Chris offers with a knowing smirk.

Phichit, never one to be needlessly negative, chuckles lightly "Speaking of the festival, you never mentioned you'd seen the Lost Prince when you were young." he comments offhandedly as they start walking, hopefully back to the river or any other nearby reference point.

Chris hums "You know, it's the weirdest thing. It's like I just remembered it the moment I said it." He taps his chin. "I always had that… you know, that little voice at the back of my mind, pushing me into winter dancing, but it was so blurry. And then the moment Victor asked me, it's like I remembered it all of a sudden, that I saw the Lost Prince. And I still don't really remember much of it. I was very young back then, but it's like that memory is especially foggy… it's really weird now that I think about it."

Phichit chuckles "If Yuuri had known before, he would've barraged you with so many questions he would've forced at least one memory out of your skull." He looks over his shoulder in the general direction of Novgorod, where he knows Yuuri is heading. "He seemed to be much more interested in other things this time, though." He adds with a smirk.

Chris snorts in agreement "Actually, I've been thinking… how does it go in the stories? 'There was once a beautiful Prince, with Moonlight hair and eyes like stars'… don't you think that description sound a lot like…?"

Phichit's eyes widen and he stares at Chris for a long, silent moment.

 

 

 

 

"Nah." They both say at the same time, and start laughing.

"It would be unbelievably romantic, though." Phichit concedes.

"For sure, a tale fit to be written by faeries and told and retold for many generations to come."

* * *

"That's it?" Victor inquires after Yuuri finishes his confession. "I told you before that Yakov lies to me very often and that I hated it. You promised you wouldn't do it."

"I wasn't lyi—" he cuts himself off. He has to own up to his mistakes. "Yes, I did, and I'm sorry I broke my promise. I'd understand if you don't trust me anymore." He should've known that lying to Victor would mean losing him all the same.

"Yuuri  _I_ trust you." Victor states, his tone serious. "I think I might have more faith in you than you do. I just ask that you trust  _me_  too."

It's possible that hearing that actually hurts more than the alternative. It makes him feel even worse about betraying that trust. "I- I do trust you!" He frets, feeling like crying. "I just… I thought if you knew, you would feel guilty and decide to go back to the tower." He confesses, shutting his eyes tight to avoid looking at Victor's face. "I'm sorry, I know that's not my call to make either."

He hears the sound of feet stepping on the snow, getting closer until he knows Victor is crouching right in front of him. Long, cold fingers cup his chin and tilt his head up, just so. When Yuuri opens his eyes, there's blue and silver, stars and moonlight, and the slightest curl of a smile.

"Do you really think I'd give up after coming this far? For something I've wanted for so long?" Victor asks, softly, his warm breath grazing Yuuri's skin. "Besides," he leans a little closer, their noses almost touching, "I also made you a promise, remember?"

" _Please take care of me until the lantern festival."_

Yuuri's breath hitches.

"I have every intention of keeping it."

His heart jumps inside his chest and he feels heat crawling up to his face. Victor pulls away and offers his hand to help Yuuri back on his feet. Yuuri takes it without thinking, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. As soon as his palm touches Victor's, he feels a jolt of pain going up his arm. Victor steps back with wide eyes.

"Yuuri! You're bleeding!" he exclaims, looking at the bloody smear on his hand with horror, then quickly kneels next to Yuuri and grabs his hand again, palm up to look at it. There's a large, bloody gash across his skin. He remembers the acute pain he'd felt when he tripped down earlier and looks to his side to find a rock, not much bigger than his hand, but with a lot of sharp edges. He must have cut his hand with it when he tried to break his fall in the dark.

"Don't worry, Victor, it's alright." He says, trying to appease the worry in his beautiful blue eyes. "We have enough water to wash it and I can use a handk—what are you doing?!" his attempt at appeasement is cut short when he sees Victor wrapping his long silver hair around his injured hand. "S-stop! Wh-what the- You'll get it dirty with blood!"

Victor looks up at him with a severe expression and gently presses his index finger on Yuuri's lips.

(There he goes again, touching Yuuri's lips.)

Wordlessly, he goes back to whatever he's doing, his brow furrowing in concentration. Yuuri's eyes wander to a whorl of hair right at the crown of Victor's head and he feels an immense urge to poke it. Just a little. See how Victor would react. The thought vaporizes when he sees Victor has finished wrapping his hair around the wound three times over and nods to himself, apparently satisfied.

"Victor, what—" Yuuri tries again, weakly. The strands of hair feel like silk against his skin.

"Hush. " Victor replies, closing his eyes. "Don't freak out."

Then he starts singing.

 

_I hear a voice crying in the distance_

_Perhaps you have been abandoned too?_

 

His voice is deep and quiet. Something about it seems to resonate deep into Yuuri's bones, his blood, the very essence of his being. It's painfully melancholic and profoundly heartfelt. Yuuri has heard many gifted singers in his life, but there's something different about Victor's singing that's deeply affecting.

Then Victor's hair starts glowing.

Yuuri yelps, but manages to stay seated. It starts at that lovely whorl on his head and then glides down past his ears, the long, long hair illuminating their surroundings with a bright, silver light. It truly is like a stream of moonlight and stars, lighting up in the snowy floor. When the glow reaches the hair around Yuuri's hand, he feels warmth spreading from the throbbing wound and through his whole body. Coupled with Victor's low singing voice, Yuuri loses awareness of everything but that ethereal silver glow and heartbreaking song.

He doesn't even realize when the song ends and the glow fades until he feels a single tear slide down his cheek, and the cool tip of Victor's thumb wiping it away.

"Oh no, Yuuri, does it still hurt?" Victor asks, eyebrows curled in worry, his free hand stroking Yuuri's.

"Hurt?" Yuuri parrots helplessly. His eyes find the open palm of his wounded hand, now released from Victor's hair… and with no traces of blood or injury to be found. He blinks, perplexed, and he rubs his eyes to make sure he's seeing right. Still no blood anywhere, almost like it was never there to begin with. Even the scrapes from when he climbed up Victor's tower are gone.

He shrieks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm sorry this took so long, not only was my semester a bitch, but also when I was halfway through the chapter I realized it wasn't working and I thought I'd have to discard the whole thing. In the end I just threw away a couple of scenes (if you want to check them out, go [here](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com/post/162961218522/buy-lia-a-coffee) for more info) and rearranged some other and it sort of managed to click. As you can see, the chapter turned out quite long too. I'm on vacation now so hopefully the next one will be done before the Christmas.
> 
> Braies are a type of medieval underwear used mainly by men. Victor is of course wearing tiny panties rather than actual braies because I'm committed to honoring as many canon details as I can B|
> 
> I'll never have a moment to explain it within the story, but if anyone cares to know, Yakov gave the bracelet to Phichit as "payment" –he left chasing for Victor in a hurry and wasn't carrying any money anyway-. He just didn't explain it properly –he said it was "a sign of good faith"- and Phichit misinterpreted it as a sort of proof of being Yuuri's friend.
> 
> Happy birthday Yuuri! I hope everyone likes this chapter and hasn't abandoned this story ;-; Please let me know your thoughts, we're getting very close to the home stretch! And don't follow a Disneyfied fanfic's advice on how to save your life if you're under freezing temperatures and stranded outdoors!


	11. And when they opened their hearts to each other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Victor try to get back on track to get to the Festival on time. Captain Yuri Plisetsky closes in on the fugitives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shout-out to Lena for helping me sift through the rougher parts and everyone in the server for motivating me to keep writing

Over the past few days, Victor has observed that Yuuri has quite a tendency for shrieking. In general, he has a very wide emotional range, which he showcases very openly; a stark and welcome contrast with Yakov, whose face seems permanently stuck on a stern scowl. Still, Victor can't help feeling a little concerned about all the shrieking.

"Are you alright? Does it hurt?" he asks, cautiously. He doesn't use his hair magic to heal injuries very often, just the few occasions Makkachin has gotten hurt when playing and that one time Yakov cut himself during sword practice, so he has no way of knowing if Yuuri could experience any kind of negative effects.

Yuuri doesn't answer, his eyes wide like plates staring at his palm. Victor peeks over to confirm the blood and the wound have disappeared. He sighs with relief. It looks like everything went fine.

"Yuuuri, I told you not to freak out!" He whines playfully. There's something very endearing about Yuuri's wide variety of bewildered and confused expressions.

Still no reaction, just gaping. Victor pokes Yuuri's palm, just a little bit delighted by the soft texture of his skin. It reminds him a bit of squeezing Makkachin's paws. He pokes again, entranced by the lines on Yuuri's palm. What kind of stories do they tell? He has always had a passing interest in chiromancy, but with no one's palm but his own to look at (Yakov always said those things were a waste of time and that he should focus on studying important things. Important things, for Yakov, meant boring things), he had kind of lost motivation to study it. Now he wishes he had been more constant. Do the lines of Yuuri's palm cross with his at some point?

Yuuri's finger touches right next to Victor's, where the wound used to be, and it breaks Victor out of his contemplation.

"How?" Yuuri asks at last, his voice a little thin.

Victor shrugs.

"Y-you can't just shrug! What was… with your hair I—I don't understand." He sighs, visibly frustrated at his own inability to find the right words.

Victor trails his fingers through his hair absentmindedly. "It's always done that. I sing and it heals people. And Makkachin. I mostly use it for Makkachin." He lets go of Yuuri's hand and reaches out to pat Makkachin's head. "It doesn't work on myself though, every time I've twisted my legs dancing or cut myself with the sword, I've had to wait for it to heal like normal. Isn't that silly?" he laughs, twirling a lock of hair around his index finger.

Yuuri stares at him, still looking stunned. "So you just… sing? And then it just heals stuff? Why? How can your hair do that?"

Victor shrugs again. "I just remember when Yakov taught me the song. He said it was a rare and precious gift that people would want to steal away. That's why he always said I shouldn't leave the tower." He smiles melancholically. Sometimes, he wished he could give up this gift if it meant he would be allowed to go outside. But then he'd think, who would take care of Yakov's back pain and who would make Makkachin feel better when he gets hurt playing? He can't be so selfish.

"And did you use this magic to heal Yakov too?"

When he looks up, he finds Yuuri's bewildered expression has changed to one of cautiousness. Victor cocks his head, "Yes?" Yakov has never liked it when he does that, but he has always been the only person in Victor's life, and as the years go by and leave their marks on Yakov's skin, the color of his hair, the aches in his joints, Victor can't help the mounting fear of what would happen if that one and only person was gone. So he does it anyway. "He's very old, his back is always hurting him, so I help him a little sometimes, when he brushes my hair."

Yuuri inhales sharply. Victor doesn't understand.

 

* * *

 

It finally makes sense, with all this new information. The one piece of Victor's puzzle that never quite fit to Yuuri was why would some old man keep a young man captive for nearly twenty years, provide him with all kinds of luxuries and convince him that the world was scary and dangerous to make sure he never escaped. But finally, that piece of the puzzle has fallen into place.

_He's using Victor._

It almost feels like a story taken out of a fairytale. An evil old man hoarding for himself the gift of youth and health. Treating Victor like an object and denying him of the wonders of the world for his selfish motives. And even fooling him into believing everything was for Victor's own sake. What a vile, miserable man. To think Yuuri almost left Victor behind in that tower. He curls his fist as anger burns in his veins, his determination stronger than ever to make sure Victor never goes back to that prison and experiences true freedom and happiness.

Victor looks at him with curiosity and Yuuri has to force himself to relax his expression. Even though he can understand things now, Victor has been tricked by Yakov all his life. He has already experienced how defensive Victor gets about the subject; if he tries to explain this to him, Victor might run off. No, he has upset Victor enough during this trip, the least he can do is dedicate all his energy to make sure the next 48 hours are everything Victor has always dreamed of. Victor deserves that much. They can talk things out after the festival.

"L-let's get moving, we have a long way to go yet."

 

* * *

 

With a lot less gold coins than he had coming in and a soiled sense of pride, Captain Yuri Plisetsky finally manages to free himself of the Katsuki family and set back on his way. Where should he head now, though, he has no idea. That inn was his only lead and no one in town will give him any information regarding "Eros" or any other winter dancer from his Wanted posters.

He'll think about that later, he decides as he hurries to mount Agape and snap the reins to make her gallop. First he needs to get out of here before the deceitfully kind looking inn lady decides to treat him to more of her hospitality

If he enjoyed the natural hot springs and the lady's otherworldly cooking, he'll never say it out loud.

 

* * *

 

When they finally find their way out of the forest, they are met with a small village that is buzzing back to life with the first lights of day. People are coming and going, setting up preparations for the festival, selling food, and clothes, and crafts.

"Wow!" Victor gasps, eyes bright with excitement, "There's so much people here!"

"Come," Yuuri says, walking farther away from the trees and towards the bustling crowd. He realizes Victor didn't get the chance to experience the liveliness of a village yesterday because they spent the whole day in his parents' inn. Makkachin follows him, hopping and running in circles around him.

"Eh? But Yuuri, I thought people shouldn't see you." Victor points out, his expression concerned and hesitant, whilst poorly trying to conceal how much he actually wants to explore the village.

Of course, Yuuri's not unaware of the danger. "We'll just have to hope no one recognizes me like this," he points at his glasses, hoping to sound less worried than he actually is. "We have to ask where we are anyway; we took so many turns in the woods I'm not sure of where the river is anymore. We need to find it to get back on track."

Victor's eyes sparkle even brighter, although he still forces himself to insist. "Are you sure?"

Yuuri's heart flutters seeing how much Victor is willing to hold back from his own wishes to ensure his safety. It only makes him more confident in this choice. "Very sure, come on, it's getting late."

Victor beams. "Okay!" he bounces to catch up with Yuuri, a huge heart-shaped smile on his face that makes Yuuri's chest ache. "But if anything seems sketchy, promise you'll tell me. No more lying and hiding things."

Yuuri feels himself smile. "I promise".

It seems to be enough to satisfy Victor, who finally relaxes his stance and looks away from Yuuri to let his eyes wander around the colorful village. Makkachin sniffles the air and seems at a complete loss for what to do, overwhelmed with the new sounds and smells. Victor doesn't look that different, and Yuuri giggles at the mounting wonder in his bright blue eyes.

It's noisy with voices, animal noises, the sound of clothes and steps, the crash of something breaking, laughter, birds singing. They get lost in the crowd and walk by a minstrel who sings bits of the story of the Lost Prince as a group of men and women hang beautiful blue flags with silver roses from the ceilings of the houses. A group of children passes by them squealing and laughing and Victor follows them with his eyes, smiling melancholically. Yuuri chews on his lower lip. Is it even possible to make up for everything Victor has missed?

A sweet, familiar scent reaches his nose, and an idea sparks in his mind.

"Victor!" he calls, grabbing Victor's wrist and tugging lightly. "Follow me!"

Victor looks at him and his pale cheeks turn the faintest shade of pink, but he immediately beams and nods. Makkachin woofs as he trots by their side, making their way through the crowd, dodging people carrying baskets full of clothes, flowers and fruits atop their heads. Yuuri follows the smell until they reach a small, quaint little shop with brown brick walls and flowers decorating the corner of the windowsill. The owner walks by the window and carries out what Yuuri came looking for: a tray full of smoking, soft and fluffy looking bread.

"Wow! These smell delicious!" Victor exclaims.

"Oh, they absolutely are, the best in town!" the old lady greets them with a kind smile "You're in luck, this is the last batch for today and it  _just_  came out of the oven!"

Victor turns to look at Yuuri, eyes wide with wonder. "Yuuri you…"

Yuuri smiles. "You said you always wanted to know the smell of freshly-baked bread."

Victor's smile turns so wide, Yuuri wonders if his cheeks don't hurt. "Yuuri!" he squeals, throwing his arms around Yuuri's neck and squeezing him tightly. From the corner of his eye, Yuuri catches sight of the old lady, who smiles at him like she knows a compromising secret and quirks an eyebrow knowingly. Yuuri feels himself boil under his skin.

"W-we'll take two." He tells the lady breathlessly, even as he feels like melting in Victor's tight embrace.

Her smile widens as she takes Yuuri's copper coin and hands them two loaves of bread. Victor finally untangles himself from Yuuri and grabs his piece of bread, brings it close to his nose and inhales long and deep, eyes closed in concentration. Yuuri finds himself staring with baited breath, clutching his own bread with anticipation.

Victor's eyes shoot wide open and they look like they've turned into actual stars. "Amazing!"

 

* * *

 

He has read so many stories about the wonder and comfort of freshly-baked bread. In fairytales, it's like the staple of the start of a hero's journey, to walk by a bakery and take in the delicious scent. And truly, the warmth and depth of the smell makes Victor tingle, like his own adventure is just getting started.

"It's the most delicious smell!" he declares, taking a small bite and chewing tentatively, the taste as wonderful as the smell. Probably only Lady Hiroko's cooking could compare to this. "This is incredible, Ma'am."

The baker smiles at him, "My, what an enthusiastic young man. You can take an extra piece for your journey, since you liked it so much."

"Oh! Really?! That'd be so kind!"

"Of course, go ahead, I don't think I've ever seen anyone make such a joyous expression just from eating a piece of bread. Knowing that it will be making you smile is enough reward for me."

Victor takes the extra loaf of bread the lady offers, clutching it like a precious treasure. "Thank you so much!" he grins, barely containing the urge to bounce on his toes with happiness.

"Thank you." Yuuri echoes, smiling at the woman warmly.

Victor bites his lip, his heart jumping inside his chest. The kindness of Yuuri's smile could rival the light of the sun itself, he thinks.

He turns around towards Makkachin and kneels down, offering him a small piece of bread. "I'm sure the kind lady won't be mad at me for sharing." He muses.

Makkachin chomps it enthusiastically and woofs his approval, pawing at Victor's hand to ask for more. Victor laughs. "No more, we have to save this for the road." He declares sternly, tucking the bread away into his satchel.

Yuuri taps his shoulder to get his attention. "The lady was kind enough to help me figure out where we are, so now I know how to get back to the river." He says, holding his map proudly. "We should get going, it's not a great idea for me to be out in public for so long." He adds, smiling sadly.

"Oh." Victor gasps, understanding dawning on him. "Yeah, you're right." He pats the top of Makkachin's head and gets back on his feet. He can't say he's not disappointed.

"I'm really sorry." Yuuri mutters, clearly dispirited.

Victor shakes his head. "Don't apologize, it's thanks to you that I got to try this delicious bread. And I'm sure there are even more surprises lying ahead, I can't wait for it." He says, clasping Yuuri's hands and squeezing them tightly. Just the fact that Yuuri is taking him to see the lights is already amazing, but that he's going out of his way to let him experience all these things he'd always dreamed of… Victor isn't sure he's deserving of such kindness.

Yuuri still seems regretful, but he nods. "If we make a good pace, we should reach Novgorod tomorrow morning. I'm sure you'll love it."

Victor grins. "Let's go then."

 

* * *

 

It is not long before they find themselves deep into the forest, surrounded by the noise of singing birds, the cracking of leaves and twigs, the padding of their feet on the snow, and the smell of pines and wood. They walk in contented silence, with Victor occasionally humming a tune, as Yuuri inspects the map intently to make sure they're walking in the right direction.

"Look, Yuuri!" Victor says suddenly and points at the trees that tower over their heads, how the light filters in between the thick leaves, creating beautiful shadows on the snow.

Yuuri hums softly. "There is a word for that, in the tongue of my homeland.  _Komorebi_. I haven't found an equivalent for it in any other tongue."

"Komorebi", Victor repeats, wistfully. "Yuuri's homeland must be really special, to have a name for something so beautiful."

A soft red blush spreads over Yuuri's cheeks as he scratches his chin. "I'd never thought about it that way." He admits. "It… it  _is_  kind of nice." His expression turns a little melancholic as his eyes focus on the shapes and shadows on the snow.

Victor twirls in one foot. "Do you miss it?"

"Hm?"

"Your homeland."

"Oh." Yuuri gasps, startled. "Like I said, I don't remember a lot about it. I was very young when we came here."

Victor hums pensively as they continue walking. "We should visit it." He concludes after a few steps. "After the festival, we should go visit your homeland!"

"Eh?" Yuuri flinches, surprised. "Wait, that's… it's really far away and—"

"But it'd be good, don't you think?" Victor interrupts, eyes sparkling. "We can visit other lands were winter dancing isn't forbidden. You wouldn't have to keep hiding. It could be an adventure!"

Yuuri's heart thumps loudly in his chest. "And you… you would come with me?" He asks, hesitantly.

Victor isn't fazed at all. "I'd love to see the place where Yuuri was born! I'm sure it's wonderful."

"It'd be a very difficult journey." Yuuri objects, "And very long. We don't have any money and in the lands of the south, the lakes don't freeze in winter. We'd experience many hardships along the way, it's not even certain we can make it there alive. Are you sure you want to come in such a trip?"

Victor twirls again, and when he comes around, he grasps both of Yuuri's hands, his blue eyes bright with excitement. "Yuuri, are you seriously asking me this? After all this time, what could I possibly want more than to explore the world! To go on adventures! Just think of how many surprises can be waiting out there, how could I miss out on it?"

Yuuri chews on his lower lip. It's a crazy idea for sure. It's not that he hasn't thought about visiting his parents' land, especially now that the prohibition in this kingdom has become so strict. But he had never considered it a serious possibility. With Victor though… when Victor says it, it sounds like anything is possible.

 

* * *

 

"His Majesty will see you now."

Otabek turns to look at the guard who just spoke. He's tall and wears thick armor with a unicorn head as an emblem, as opposed to the Rose and Moon crest that the Royal Guard wears. This man belongs to a special unit within the military ranks, the Regent's Guards, the only knights in the kingdom that aren't under Yuri's authority. Otabek has never liked them.

He nods and walks into the throne room in silence. The Regent observes him, following him with his sharp eyes until Otabek has kneeled in front of the throne.

"You requested a hearing, Lieutenant Altin." He states dryly. His voice sounds coarse.

"It has been four days since you sent Captain Plisetsky away to capture the fugitive winter dancers. The company's morale is low in the Captain's absence, and the townsfolk feel unsafe without his guidance. I'm requesting your permission to aid him in his search so he can return to guard the city as soon as possible."

He shouldn't have let Yuri go alone on that mission. They both knew it wasn't a mission the Regent expected him to return from in the short-term. The kingdom is vast and the winter dancers have gotten quite skilled at avoiding capture over the years. The commonfolk love them too, not many would give them away. The Regent knew this when he assigned the mission. For all intents and purposes, it was temporary exile.

"Your loyalty could be a valuable asset if it were aimed in the right direction, Lieutenant." The Regent says, his tone measured. "Now, do you think it would be prudent for our city to be left without its main defenders? Our great festival is tomorrow, it would be too reckless to send our trusted Royal Guard away on such an occasion. I have faith in our prodigious Captain Plisetsky, he has the skill to succeed in his mission and bring justice to those criminals. Do you not share my faith?"

Otabek grits his teeth and clenches his fist. He had never harbored hopes that this meeting would solve the situation, but that doesn't make the resolution less infuriating. He was overcome with frustration when Yuri's grandfather, doctor Nikolai, had lamented that his grandson wasn't home for his 19th birthday. If only there was anything he could do.

"I do have a mission for you, Lieutenant, so you'll occupy your mind with something useful." The Regent continues, making a sign to one of his guards, who approaches Otabek and hands him a Wanted poster. The person featured, though, is not a winter dancer. The name inked at the bottom of the page reads 'Yakov Feltsman'. "This man stole something irreplaceable from this kingdom many years ago and went missing for a long time. Recently, we received reports that he was sighted not too far from Novgorod. It's possible he will try to enter the city during the festival. Recovering the treasure is of crucial importance, he must be captured alive."

Otabek's fingers clench on the paper as his eyes go over the name repeatedly.

Suddenly, the Regent lurches forward and starts coughing violently. Four of his guards surround him in an instant, while a fifth one approaches Otabek and pushes him to the door. "You are dismissed," he says simply before unceremoniously shutting the door on his nose.

Otabek looks back down at the image on the poster.

Things just got a lot more complicated.

 

* * *

 

"My apologies, Captain, I have never seen or heard of this person." The young merchant says, bowing his head before continuing down the path.

Yuri sighs as he folds the poster and places it back in his traveling satchel. He didn't expect any different, not after asking at least twenty different people he's crossed on the road, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. Not when he feels with absolute certainty that he had been so close to catching the runaway winter dancers. He may have lost his one chance to be allowed back home.

He looks forlornly at the road ahead, the path that leads directly to Novgorod. The Festival for the Lost Prince is tomorrow, so a lot of people from all over the realm are traversing this road to get to the city. It's probably going to get more and more crowded the closer he gets to the capital, which will make it difficult for Agape to make it through. It's best to continue the search off the road.

_His eyes widen with realization._

What an idiot.

Of course wanted criminals wouldn't be traveling over the main roads where people and soldiers could easily spot them. Even if he knew where Katsuki and his companions were headed, he would never cross them in these crowded roads.

He tugs on the reins and leads Agape off the path, into the woods, then halts and studies his surroundings. The feeling of the thick trees all around him, their dark leaves hiding most traces of sunlight, branches growing in every direction is slightly claustrophobic. Where would a troupe of winter dancers go hide from the royal guard? Of course, since their identities are generally unknown, Yuri's thoughts immediately go to a family home, and all seems to indicate Katsuki Yuuri did make a stop at his parents' inn, but Yuri has no leads for any of his companions.

It's then that he remembers the branch of the Volkhov river that passed the Katsuki estate. Is it possible the fugitives chose it as an alternative road for whatever their destination may be? With the river completely frozen in some areas there would be no fishermen around and the path should be mostly deserted. It's plausible, even, that they use that route frequently and have multiple hideouts along the way.

It's more a hunch than a tangible lead, but following his gut feelings is part of what made him into the youngest captain in the History of the Royal Guard. He looks up at the sun to confirm his position and pulls the reins again, leading Agape through the woods, in the direction opposite to Novgorod. He needs to find the Volkhov again.

The river crosses his path as they get close to a nearby town. It is significantly wider than the small stream he saw at the Katsuki home, though still not so wide that Agape couldn't cross it in a single stride. Now the obvious question is which direction he should take. Of course, it would be most logical for the fugitives to run away in the direction opposite to the city, but these winter dancers have proved numerous times that they're not necessarily interested in what one could consider the most logical course of action. And the Prince's festival is tomorrow, it wouldn't be all that surprising for winter dancers to flock into the city in disguise, in spite of the risk.

Once again, he has little more than a hunch to go by, but it's better than nothing. He can feel he's onto something with this. And so, he tugs on Agape's reins and leads her north along the riverbank, in the direction of Novgorod.

As expected, the way is completely deserted. Even ice merchants wouldn't be interested in getting their supplies from this area, where the river is still rather narrow and not too deep. The water is visible, with just a few large chunks of ice floating on its surface, yet it's too cold for fishing. He hears birds singing and sees a deer leaning down and chewing from a bush in the distance. Its ears turn as Yuri approaches, and it lifts its long neck to look at him briefly before scurrying away.

As he keeps going, the river gets wider and he starts noticing things on the snow. It would be hasty to call them footprints –if they were, they have completely lost their shape from the snow melting, but there are traces of something that doesn't look like animal tracks. There is no clear path either, but at some points, he could almost imagine two humans walking side by side. He increases the pace, patting Agape's neck twice and promising to give her a treat later. The traces become more and more frequent until he can actually make out a footprint. A human footprint!

He climbs down from Agape's back and kneels next to the footprint. It's from an adult, foot of average size, the winter boots don't help in making out any specific feature. It's more likely that this foot belongs to a hunter or a fisherman looking for thinner ice than his runaway winter dancers. He gets back on his feet, hoping to find another hint nonetheless, but something bumps into him and throws him off balance, making him fall down on his knees.

"What the hell," he groans. His knees fell right on top of the footprint. There goes his only lead.

"Watch where you're—" the other person halts mid-sentence, as if they choked on air, "Pr—Captain Plisetsky!"

Yuri groans again as he back on his feet and looks at the man. He's short and looks of about the same age as his grandfather. The top of his head is completely devoid of hair, his eyes are small and a deep blue. His clothes don't seem of the kind a hunter or a fisherman would wear. They're not excessively luxurious, but they don't look like the rags of a peasant either.

"Forgive me, Captain, I was careless." The man says, his voice rough and rushed. He looks very visibly uncomfortable, doing everything he can to avoid eye contact, "I shall lea—"

"Hold on," There it is again, that gut feeling. With his eyes fixed on the man to make sure he doesn't run away, Yuri steps back to his travel bag, pulling out the Wanted posters. "Have you seen or heard of any of these men?" he asks, showing him the pictures of Yuuri Katsuki and his companions.

The man grabs the posters, his eyes widen as he inspects the images and names on them. His fingers tighten on the pages. "I'm afraid not, Captain. I have never seen any of this people."

He's lying, Yuri knows. Like Lady Katsuki before, this man is lying. Do people think he won't see through their lies?

"Are you sure about that, sir?"

The man swallows. He looks troubled. His body shakes, he seems tired and malnourished, his eyes sunken and cheeks hollow. Like he hasn't slept or eaten properly in days. He paints a pitiful picture, a man defeated after a lifelong struggle with something Yuri can't come close to imagining. There's something about him that makes him think of his grandfather. Yuri bites his lip.

"I see, thank you for your cooperation." He says at last, grabbing the posters from the old man's hands. He rummages through his travel bag again and pulls out a loaf of bread he had been saving for his dinner. "It will get colder later, you should keep yourself well fed," he states, trying to sound nonchalant.

With a surprised expression, the man takes the piece of bread. He smiles fondly and it makes Yuri's stomach twist uncomfortably. "I am pleased to see the rumors about Captain Plisetsky's kindness were true after all." He says.

Yuri huffs, climbing back on Agape, ignoring the blush on his cheeks. What this man calls kindness is the same softness that has landed him in his current predicament. It's not something he wants to be praised for given the circumstances.

The man scurries away into the forest. In his gut, Yuri is certain that the man knew much more than he admitted to. He brushes the thought aside and snaps the reins to make Agape continue marching along the riverbank. They pass a ridge and a cave; inside of it, clear evidence of someone spending the night there. It can't be a coincidence. He's more certain than ever that he's on the right track. The scene looks like it was abandoned in a hurry and the tracks in the area are too convoluted to make up where the people who had set a fire in this cave last night had gone.

The river keeps growing wider as it gets further and further away from the main road. By the time the sun has begun setting and Yuri has to stop the search to make a shelter for the night, not only is the river wide enough that Agape wouldn't be able to jump to the other side, but the ice is also thick and covering all the surface, as far as Yuri's eyes can reach.

Even in the brutal winter, walking over a frozen river is thought to be a summoning on bad luck. Ice is, after all, fickle and unpredictable, slippery, prone to cracking. It's the reason winter dancers used to be so beloved by the people. They possess the magic to tame the ice, to bend it to their will and use it to create something beautiful and sublime. The first time he ever saw a winter dancer, he'd been completely entranced by the musicality of their body, their grace, their confidence. For many years, he practiced and practiced, dreaming that he too would be able to craft that same magic on the ice.

Then the prohibition came, and that dream was smashed to smithereens. As his grandfather aged and his body became frailer, the crown started demanding steeper and steeper tributes, so Yuri came to the conclusion that becoming a knight was the only path he could take to ensure he would be able to take care of his grandfather. He found himself as prodigious with the sword as he was comfortable taking command, and so in spite of his unremarkable bloodline, he rose through the ranks quickly and earned the respect and recognition of the people and the other knights.

Yuri sighs and watches the orange light of the setting sun glimmering on the ice. He clutches the wanted posters in his hand, biting his lip. Tentatively, he hops off Agape's back, letting the posters drop on the snow as he digs through his travel bag, quickly finding what he was looking for.

His grandfather gave them to him as an early birthday gift.

" _These are illegal, grandpa_ " Yuri had said, weakly.

" _Oh, really? I wasn't aware. Just like I am certainly not aware of how you've worn down your last pair. Or the one before that._ "

He shouldn't be carrying these things either, yet here they are. Easy to find for anyone who got even mildly curious about the contents of his bag. Something to put an end to his spotless career in the Royal Guard in a blink and get him thrown in jail.

Dancing blades.

Before he can think twice about it, he removes his sword and cape, toes off his boots and kneels down to put on the blades. He hasn't used them since he got them from his grandfather, so they feel a bit stiff and tight, but not unbearably so. He wobbles to the edge of the frozen river, tentatively touching the ice with the blade, stepping back, leaning on the ice a bit harder to see if it cracks. It doesn't.

Yuri takes a deep breath and finally steps into the ice. The surface isn't completely smooth, the river runs rather violently in this area so there are a few bumps, but it's still good enough to dance. Since his appointment as captain, he has had very little time to do this, but the ice still feels familiar and welcoming. It calms him and excites him at the same time. In his childhood, he had dreamed of making the ice his home. How would his young self react if he knew how far he had veered from that path?

He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander to the past, to the winter dancer he has admired all his life. He glides over the ice, listens to the sound of the wind, the leaves, the music of his dancing blades carving paths across the frozen river. The cold air bites his nose and his cheeks, his eyes sting. Briefly, he allows himself to wonder how different his life would be if he had become a winter dancer. If he'd decided to ignore the prohibition and live in hiding in exchange for mastering that musical grace he had chased for so long. Maybe he would be part of Yuuri Katsuki's runaway troupe and get to know a different side of this realm, to be seen by people with excitement and admiration rather than fearful respect.

There's a bump on the ice that makes him trip and fall hard on his side. He groans, the fantastical musings completely gone as he pushes himself up. Probably this was as good a sign that he was never meant to become a winter dancer. He should stop wasting time and focus on the mission so he can go back home to his grandfather and—

A loud, screeching crack reaches his ear. He stands, paralyzed, and barely has time to look down at his feet, to the deep, thick crack on the surface on the ice. He jolts, but as soon as he tries to pull his right foot away from the crack, the ice breaks even further. Through the crack, Yuri can see the water of the river. Before he can try to think of a way to get himself out of this safely, the ice gives in under his feet and he's immediately submerged in freezing cold water. His limbs start aching instantly, the cold seeping straight into his bones. He tries to pull himself out of the water, but the dancing blades are heavy and drag him down. He kicks and struggles, his body growing number by the second. Agape neighs in the distance. With his last strength, he grabs onto the edge of the cracked ice and manages to force his head out of the water for a gulp of air. But when he tries to get his other hand to hold on the edge, his arm doesn't respond. His legs stop kicking. He can't feel any of his limbs and even the air he breathes freezes his lungs. His body goes limp and his eyes start feeling so, so heavy. A nagging voice in the back of his head screams at him to stay awake, but he feels so tired, and his body is so heavy and cold. There's another voice far, far away, a voice that sounds familiar yet strange, and he can't make out what it's saying. It's hard to keep his eyes open. Just ten seconds. He can close his eyes ten seconds and then…

 

* * *

 

The first twinges of orange tint the sky. Victor bites his lip, trying to think of something to talk about. Yuuri has had his nose buried in his map for hours, and although the silence isn't awkward, Victor has spent too many years in silence and solitude, so it inevitably makes him feel uneasy. The river runs close to their path, wider now than ever, its surface completely frozen, and it gives Victor an idea.

"Yuu—"

"Oh!"

Before he can even begin to speak, Yuuri jolts and rushes forward, folding the map away. Makkachin woofs and bounces behind him, until they reach a large tree. Its trunk is the thickest in the area, probably thick enough that Victor's arms wouldn't be enough to go around it. As he approaches it, he notices the markings on the bark, like scratches made by an animal with massive claws.

Yuuri touches the markings, mumbling to himself, and turns away from the tree. To Victor's surprise, the next thing he does is get down on his knees and pat the ground before he starts pushing snow away with his hands. Makkachin joins in enthusiastically, digging into the snow

"What's wrong?" Victor asks, alarmed and confused. "Are you hurt? Do you need me to use my hair?"

As if suddenly remembering Victor is there, Yuuri looks up and blinks. "Oh, no, nothing. Just… we're here."

Victor cocks his head. "Here?"

"Yes, the shelter. We'll be safe spending the night here."

Bewildered by the reply, Victor kneels next to Yuuri, unable to mask the concern on his face. "Yuuri, are you sure you feel alright? There is… no shelter here" he waves his arms to signal the empty clearing they're standing in, nothing but snow, trees and the frozen river.

To his surprise, Yuuri laughs and continues removing the snow, uncovering the earth beneath it. He doesn't stop there though, instead continues digging and pushing the dirt aside. Victor is beginning to feel concerned about Yuuri's sanity –has his mind been taken by an ancient spirit?- when wooden boards become visible through the removed dirt and snow.

"Help me out a little" he says, and Victor's eyes widen when he makes out the shape of the large, round wooden lid, camouflaged with some leftover pieces of dirt that seem to be completely adhered to the wood, as well as patches of dry grass and leaves. Victor finally helps Yuuri push the lid aside, and he gasps when he sees the deep hole that is revealed underneath. It's too dark and too deep to see where it ends, but near the edge where they're kneeling, Victor sees the top of a ladder.

"What is this?" he asks, mouth agape with awe.

"A shelter, I told you. We built it a long time ago, when the prohibition was first decreed. We haven't used it in years, but it should be good enough to spend the night, we won't be seen and it'll be warmer than staying out here. And Novgorod is just a couple of hours away walking, we'll get there with time to spare for the festival tomorrow." Yuuri explains with a satisfied grin on his face.

Among many other things, Victor has come to know that there are many, many different sides to Yuuri. Quite often, there's the Yuuri that is insecure, that constantly doubts himself, the Yuuri that is always afraid of showing his weakness and doesn't see how amazing he really is, the Yuuri that makes Victor want to hold him close and never let go. But there are rare moments in which Yuuri just lets loose and shows his more confident side, the blazing pride that lives within him, the passion for what he does and his ambition in chasing his dreams, it's the Yuuri that danced with him the night he first arrived in his tower and showed Victor a world of surprises and possibilities, the Yuuri that Victor chose to entrust with his life and dreams. Seeing that side of Yuuri always makes Victor's heart jump. And getting to know all these different facets of Yuuri also gives him the feeling that he couldn't possibly be any luckier. It really must have been a gift from the Moon, to let Yuuri find his tower just a few nights ago and bring them in this adventure.

"Victor? Could you hold this for me? It's really dark down there and I need to check if everything's in order before you can come down too." Yuuri asks, holding a lit torch. Victor didn't even realize when he made it, but he scrambles to grab it and nods. The warmth of the fire helps him ignore the heat on his cheeks. "Okay, I'm going down there to make sure everything is alright before you can come in. Just hold the light above the entrance, I don't want to trip, it's quite deep." He chuckles as he starts climbing down the ladder.

Victor holds the flame above the hole and watches intently as Yuuri keeps climbing down. Makkachin whines and woofs, pawing at the edge of the shoot as if he wanted to go with Yuuri too. Victor pats his head. "It's okay Makkachin, we'll go with Yuuri soon." He says, reassuringly. It's a bit funny that even Makkachin has gotten so attached to Yuuri. "He really did change our lives completely, didn't he?" he muses, remembering what he'd told Chris and Phichit last night. He remembers the promise they made earlier, of traveling to Yuuri's homeland after the festival. It fills him with excitement, to think of how wide the world is and how he'll finally be able to explore it.

"Victor!"

Once again, he's pulled out of his musings by Yuuri's voice, this time much more distant than before. He looks over the edge, still holding the fire and sees Yuuri standing way at the bottom of the pit, waving his arms. It is quite deep, maybe more than twice Victor's height.

"Yuuri! Is everything alright?"

Yuuri nods. "It's bit dusty, but it'll work! There's a pile of firewood next to you, throw it down so I can start a fire!"

Victor blinks, perplexed, and looks to his side to find that, indeed, there is a sizable pile of wood right next to him. When did Yuuri get this ready? He's more distracted than usual today, it would seem. He shakes his head to force himself to concentrate and grabs the pile of wood. "I'm throwing it now! Get out of the way!" he calls and waits for Yuuri to step aside before pushing the wood down the pit. A moment later he hears it clatter on the ground and sees Yuuri picking it up and disappearing again.

It takes a little while longer during which Makkachin digs through the snow, whining. Victor wonders if he should get worried about such a deep attachment.

"How do we bring Makkachin down here?" Yuuri asks when he reappears, his voice echoing up the pit.

Victor grins. "I know just the way!"

 

* * *

 

It takes a bit of struggling to get Makkachin hoisted down the pit, held with Victor's long hair. The dog whines and woofs, clearly scared of the growing darkness and the long fall, but between the two of them they manage to reassure him until he reaches the ground, and he seems to forget all of it immediately, pouncing Yuuri down the moment his paws touch the earth. Victor comes down next, after heeding Yuuri's instructions to conceal the entrance to their hideout without completely sealing it off so the smoke from the fire won't get trapped inside. It is a bit odd to him, even ironic, that just a few days ago he hesitated to take the jump from the top of his tower to the great world outside, and now he's climbing down into an underground refuge. The thought of it makes him feel trapped for a moment, and he's almost of a second mind to climb back outside, where he can smell the snow and the trees and feel the cold wind on his face. But when Yuuri takes his hand to help him off the ladder and asks if he's alright, all those doubts and fears dissipate. Even without a physical refuge, he'd feel unquestionably safe just looking into Yuuri's eyes.

The interior is surprisingly spacious, all things considered. The ceiling is even high enough that Victor doesn't hit his head with it, although it's hard to move around without stepping on his own hair, and he can see parts the tree's thick roots above their heads. Yuuri has lit a few torches and placed them along the walls. The warm glow of the fire makes it feel cozy and echoes the golden sunset that is currently happening outside. Which brings Victor to what he had tried to tell Yuuri before they reached the shelter.

"So, Yuuri, don't you think it's a perfect opportunity to make good on my promise? To teach you about winter dancing?"

Yuuri drops whatever he's doing and turns to look at him, not responding. He blinks in blank perplexity for a moment before his cheeks take on a sweet pink blush.

"I already told you, you don't have to repay me, I'm doing all this because I want to."

Victor grins. "And  _I want_  to see you dance again and teach you the things I know." He says, fluttering his eyelashes innocently.

It makes Yuuri's blush turn brighter, but he remains stubborn, waving his hands dismissively. "You saw enough pathetic flailing from me yesterday, you shouldn't subject yourself to it again."

"Yuuuuuri" Victor whines playfully, taking long strides through the room to reach him "It was not pathetic, I told you already! You have a unique charm when you dance, I want to show you how you can make the best out of it!" He reaches out with one hand, hoping Yuuri will reciprocate. "Let's go out there to dance, Yuuri!"

Much to his disappointment, Yuuri steps back and looks away. "It's not a good idea, you'd waste your time. Let's just—"

"But Yuuri!" Victor steps forward and grabs his wrist "You don't honestly believe that, do you? The people don't believe that for sure. They wouldn't have given you the name of the god of love and sex if they weren't enthralled by your dance. You're—"

"Just leave it alone, Victor!"

Victor recoils. Yuuri had never yelled at him. But he can't even start to process that, because Yuuri's angry expression falls immediately and turns utterly devastated and regretful. "I'm—I'm sorry I didn't mean—" Yuuri stutters before turning away without finishing the sentence and strolls towards the ladder, climbing up to the surface.

Victor bites his lip. What has he done?

 

* * *

 

Yuuri buries his face in his hands, his stomach curling with regret and dread. He fucked up. He yelled at Victor and fucked everything up. It's not Victor's fault that he can't control his frustration at his own failures. He knows Victor means well, and he has never seen a winter dancer as skilled and talented as Victor, he could learn so much from him. But the idea of showing that vulnerable, flawed side of him terrified him. As a winter dancer, he's never done anything of note, he's always been dragging Phichit and Chris down. And it makes him angry, that he practices so much, that he tries so hard, that he loves the ice so much, but he never feels strong enough to stand on it, to exert that magic that gifted dancers possess over it.

And even though all those insecurities and frustrations are no one else's but his, he still yelled at Victor. It hasn't been a full day since Victor got mad at him for lying, and now he has pushed him away when he was just trying to be helpful. There's no way Victor will still want to make that long journey to Yamato with him.

Someone plops to sit next to him. Yuuri doesn't raise his gaze, his heart clenching. He hopes against all hopes, that at least Victor will give him the chance to apologize and fulfill his promise of taking him to the festival, but he'll understand if he decides to continue on his own.

"I really like the snow." Victor says out of the blue. "Snow would pile on my windowsill and I could touch it and feel a little bit closer to the world outside. Even now, after being surrounded by snow for days, it still feels nostalgic."

Yuuri finally looks up with his eyes wide open, catching only the briefest glimpse of Victor's peaceful and thoughtful expression.

"I like snow too." He decides to say. "The first snow meant the streams and lakes would start to freeze over and that I could dance once again. I waited the rest of the year for the snow to come." He folds his knees and hugs them. "But on the ice… everyone can see how weak I am, how easily I fall apart. I hate that."

"You're not weak at all, Yuuri; I've seen how strong you are. On and off the ice. And I can tell your mom and dad, your sister, Lady Minako, your friends, they all think the same. I've  _seen_  your winter dance, I've heard the music you make with your body. Even when you fall, you get back on your feet, what's stronger than that?"

Yuuri's heart beats faster, his cheeks grow warmer. Even if they're just words, Yuuri feels he might be able to believe them, if only for this brief moment.

"I want to help you  _feel_  stronger, Yuuri. And I've been thinking, last night, when Chris asked me and I told him that you changed my life. I meant that. But I want to do something,  _be_  something  _for_  you. What do you think Yuuri? What do you want me to be to you?"

 

Hesitantly, Yuuri's gaze shifts once more, sideways to catch a glimpse of Victor's face. Their eyes meet for a moment, and his heart jumps. What should he say? What can Victor be for him?

 

"I couldn't be your father because we're around the same age; nor your brother because I don't understand a lot about families. Maybe a friend?"

Yuuri chews on his bottom lip. Surprising himself, he shakes his head. It's not right, that word. Not for Victor.

"A mentor?"

He shakes his head again. Even if he ever gets the courage to take Victor's advice and teachings, that word wouldn't suit him either.

The sun continues to set as they sit in contemplative silence.

 

 

"I could be your prince."

 

 

He says it casually, but the tone is off. Wistful but bleak.

"I'll try my best, even if I can't be the Lost Prince of your dreams."

In that moment, Yuuri jolts and gets back on his feet and finally looks at Victor's face straight. "No!" he exclaims, furrowing his brows. Has Victor really been preoccupying himself, thinking he needs to fit in a neat established role to make Yuuri happy? "You're not… I've never wanted you to be something you're not!" A prince? Why would he even think Yuuri wants him to be a prince? "I've… I've been pushing you away because I didn't want you to see… this," he signs to his whole body with his hands. "My flaws, my weaknesses. I didn't want you to be disappointed. I wanted—" Oh. He's been wanting to be the hero Victor thinks he is. Just like Victor wants to find a role that will make Yuuri happy. How dumb they are.

 

 

_What are you two?_

 

 

That question was never meant to be answered. There was no answer, no label. They never needed one.

 

 

"I just want you to stay who you are, Victor."

 

 

 

Victor's eyes widen briefly and he inhales sharply, red roses blossoming on his cheeks. And then, his expression brightens, his lips curl slowly into that beautiful, blinding smile, that makes Yuuri's stomach flutter. "Alright." Victor stretches his hand out at Yuuri, and this time, Yuuri does take it. "You better not regret it when you get all of me."

 

He uses Yuuri's arm as leverage to pull himself back on his feet and Yuuri gasps at the sudden pull and weight. When he stands, he does it so close to Yuuri, the tips of their feet are almost touching. And their noses too, Yuuri notices now. Victor's eyes look beautiful up close, deep, sparkling blue. Like stars. In spite of the biting cold, his lips look smooth and soft. The thought of tasting them crosses his mind again, the same questions and musings he had last night.

 

 

 

He wonders if Victor expected a kiss back then. If he expects it now.

 

 

 

A scream in the distance breaks the silence. They both jolt in surprise and step back from each other. Yuuri's cheeks burn. He briefly wonders if Victor is disappointed, but he doesn't mull on it after he hears the frantic screams that sound a lot like a horse's neighing, coming from not too far downstream. A horse shouldn't be alone this deep in the forest, and at such a late hour. Something's wrong.

"The horse could be hurt. Or its rider."

It doesn't take them a long time to find the origin of the noise. There's a white mare by the river, kicking and neighing frantically. Yuuri's eyes immediately go to the frozen water and find the surface cracked, and a large hole on the ice a few meters from the riverbank. And holding on to the edge of the hole, he sees pale fingers.

"Victor!" he shrieks, "There's someone in there! Help me, we have to get them out now!"

Victor freezes for a moment, his eyes growing wide with horror as he too takes in the situation. "There's a rope in—"

"There's no time!" He reaches his hand towards Victor. "I have to go there to get them out, but the ice is brittle, I can't put a lot of weight on it. I need you to hold on to me and pull us out when I tell you to."

Victor nods in understanding, grasping Yuuri's hand firmly. Yuuri feels him tremble, his eyes give away how scared he is. Yuuri is scared too, but he doesn't have the luxury of contemplating about it.

He swallows thickly and takes his first tentative step. As a fugitive winter dancer, he's had to skate on all sorts of ice, from thick and smooth to thin and rugged. He's had ice crack under his dancing blades and he knows the essential about how to prevent cracked ice to give in on you, but he's never seen anyone actually fall into the freezing water underneath, let alone attempt to rescue them. He knows every second is crucial, but he's shaking from head to toe, trying to move as quickly as possible without worsening the situation. The ice crackles loudly and his heart stops.

 

"It's okay, Yuuri, I got you."

 

He turns back to find Victor's eyes, still clouded with fear, but his expression is firm and determined, his hands clasped tightly around Yuuri's, like he's trying his best to give Yuuri confidence. And it works. Yuuri realizes how, as absurd as it is, given the circumstances, he is convinced that his life is safe in Victor's hands.

It takes him a few more steps to finally reach the opening on the ice. The fingers on the edge look rigid and the skin is turning blue. Yuuri leans in and tugs on the person's wrist, hoping for a reaction, but none comes. He pulls and pulls, but he barely manages to bring the top of the person's head to the surface. He doesn't have enough strength in one arm to pull the person out, and his grasp isn't good enough to feel confident that he can bring them along if he tells Victor to pull them out. There is only one option.

"Victor, let go of my hand." he says, his voice shaking.

Victor's eyes widen in bewilderment "What are you talking about?! Hurry, Yuuri, the cracks are growing!"

Up until that moment, Yuuri had ignored the crackling and quaking of the ice under his feet, but he now notices the cracks have grown so much, they're almost reaching the ground where Victor stands. "Let go!"

"Never!" Victor yells stubbornly.

If the ice collapses like this, even Victor could get sucked in. Yuuri won't allow it. With all the strength he can muster, he forces his hand free of Victor's grasp. The sounds of the ice crackling and the mare neighing and Victor screaming are deafening. With both hands he pulls hard on the person's arm and manages to finally bring their head out of the water, but the body remains submerged. His stomach flips as the ice gives in under his feet, the bottom of his shoes hit the freezing water. He barely has enough time to look back at the river bank, at Victor's horrified expression, and let his heart sink in regret. He won't be able to fulfill their promise after all.

 

 

 

 

His stomach flips upside down once more, but instead of crashing into the ice cold river, he feels the air punched out of his chest as he gets pulled harshly, his hands never letting go of the other person. The back of his head collides with something hard and the world spins and spins around him.

"Yuuri! Yuuri, answer me!"

His eyes haven't regained focus, but the sound of Victor's voice jolts him nonetheless. "Victor?"

Tight arms wrap around his torso. The cold that had seeped into his body from the ice and the freezing river is instantly overcome by the warmth of the embrace. The shivers that were racking his body slowly dissipate.

"Don't ever do something like that again!"

In spite of the dizziness and the temptation of just sinking into that warm embrace, he forces himself to mumble. "I couldn't leave them there..."

Victor just holds him tighter. "Just don't."

"I just don't… How did you even…?" How had Victor saved him?

With a light shrug, Victor twirls his fingers in his hair.

Yuuri is a bit too numb to fully comprehend what it means. "Your hair is… pretty convenient, huh?" strong enough to carry two adult-sized human bodies nonetheless.

As his mind regains more clarity, the moment of bliss and peacefulness vanishes in a blink. "W-what happened with-?!"

Victor loosens his embrace, but doesn't entirely give up on holding him, keeping Yuuri close as he points with his finger. Not more than a few paces away, the person they had rescued was lying on the snow, the mare sitting next to them, huffing softly and licking their face, probably hoping to share her body heat.

Ignoring Victor's protests, Yuuri finally gets up –even though his head still spins- and stumbles to where the mare and the person are. Their skin is impossibly pale, although it seems to be slowly regaining color. Their hair is chin-length and pale blond, their limbs long and thin.

Yuuri gasps. It doesn't take long to find the crest on the boy's chest.

 

"Captain Yuri Plisetsky".

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really have any excuses for this long delay other than a really frustrating semester. I’ve had so little motivation to write it’s very sad. But I love this story and I want to share it with everyone, so I’ll keep working hard. We’re really getting to the home stretch here and I’m very grateful for all your support and patience. I hope you enjoy this obscenely long chapter, I’ll be really looking forward to your thoughts about it.
> 
> As always, if you want to know more about my writing, don't hesitate[ to hmu over here ](https://lia-nikiforov.tumblr.com/post/162961218522/buy-lia-a-coffee)


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